CASTLE 


DOUBT 


JOHN  H,  WHITSON 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


THE   CASTLE   OF   DOUBT 


THE 

Castle  of  Doubt 


BY 

JOHN  H.  WHITSON 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  RAINBOW  CHASERS,"  "BARBARA,, 
A  WOMAN  OF  THE  WEST,"  ETC. 


With  a  Frontispiece  in  Color  from  a  Drawing  by 
I.   H.   Caliga 


Boston 

Little,  Brown,  and  Company 
1907 


Copyright,  1907, 
BY  LITTLE,  BROWN,  AND  COMPANY. 


All  rights  reserved 
Published  May  1907 


8.  J.  PAEKHFLI,  &  Co.,  BOSTON,  U.  8.  A, 


'PS' 


"For  Lovers  were  Liars  ever." 

—  OLD  SONG. 


1521425 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

I.  A  FILLIP  TO  CURIOSITY i 

II.  I  LEARN  ABOUT  MYSELF 14 

III.  IN  THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 22 

IV.  THE  DISSEMBLER 37 

V.  BACK  FROM  THE  DEAD 51 

VI.  WHEN  THE  FATES  WERE  CRAZY 63 

VII.  IN  THE  FOOL'S  PARADISE 73 

VIII.  INTRODUCES  THE  VILLAIN 79 

IX.  THE  RECEPTION 95 

X.  COURTNEY  LANE  THREATENS in 

XI.  POWDER  IN  MY  PISTOL 117 

XII.  ASBURY  RAND 125 

XIII.  THE  JOINT  IN  MY  ARMOR 131 

XIV.  PURSUED 147 

XV.  "WAS  EVERWOMAN  IN  THIS  HUMOUR  WOOED  ?"  163 

XVI.  THE  OFFICER  FROM  NEW  YORK 173 

XVII.  UNDER  THE  JOLLY  ROGER 183 

XVIII.  DISQUIETING  FEARS 193 

v 


CONTENTS 

CHAPTER  PAGE 

XIX.   MRS.  RANDOLPH  IN  COMMAND 203 

XX.  A  DECLARATION  OF  WAR 218 

XXI.  THE  BOLT  FROM  THE  BLUE 229 

XXII.  A  HERO  TO  HIS  MASTER 242 

XXIII.  CRIMSON  AGAINST  BLUE 256 

XXIV.  A  METAMORPHOSED  PAST 268 

XXV.    LOVE   AND  THE    SOUL-SLEEPERS 2/5 


VI 


The  Castle  of  Doubt 


A   FILLIP   TO    CURIOSITY 


"TULIAN!" 

A  witching  voice  called  the  name,  and 
a  witching  face  looked  out   at  me   from 
the  carriage  that  had  drawn  up  at  the  curb. 

I  had  observed  the  carriage  but  a  moment 
before  —  one  of  those  brilliant  equipages  that 
roll  so  noiselessly  along  the  driveways  of  Cen 
tral  Park  that  you  hear  only  the  rhythmical 
tattoo  of  the  hoofs  of  the  shining  horses. 

One  who  is  still  reasonably  young  and  im 
pressionable  may  I  think  be  pardoned  a  quick 
ening  of  the  pulse-beats  when  addressed  in  that 
way  by  the  possessor  of  such  a  voice  and  face, 
even  though  he  has  no  recollection  of  ever 
having  heard  the  one  or  seen  the  other,  and  his 
name  is  not  Julian. 

In  addition,  the  spirit  of  Spring,  which  puts 
a  fuller  crimson  on  the  robin's  breast,  had 
touched  the  world  and  me.  I  had  been  feeling 
its  jaunty  lightness  and  bubbling  effervescence, 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

and  the  earth  seemed  young,  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  I  had  that  very  morning  spent  a  whole 
half-hour  pondering  by  the  big  Egyptian  obelisk 
and  trying  to  make  myself  feel  that  the  world  is 
very,  very  old  indeed.  Hence,  when  that  voice 
and  those  eyes  called  to  me  I  was  ready  to 
accept  their  invitation. 

There  were  two  young  women  in  the  carriage. 
The  driver  had  brought  the  horses  up  with  a 
sharp  turn  and  the  footman  had  leaped  to  the 
ground.  There  was  laughing  delight  in  the 
eyes  of  the  Nymphs,  I  was  sure.  Or  were  they 
Sirens,  rather  than  Nymphs  ? 

The  tang  of  the  air,  the  flashing  of  sunlight 
on  the  polished  green  of  leaves,  the  crunch  of 
stamping  hoofs,  a  bird-note  in  the  near-by 
branches,  and  the  beckoning  of  a  musical  voice 
and  of  moist  blue  eyes!  Romance  still  disports 
itself  as  freely  as  when  Cleopatra  put  rouge  on 
her  olive  cheeks  and  steered  her  purple-sailed 
and  scented  galleys  out  to  meet  Antony.  Antony 
yielded,  as  mere  man  always  does  when  lovely 
woman  stoops  to  conquer,  and  as  I  am  quite 
ready  to  confess  that  I  did  in  this  instance. 

"Julian!"  the  voice  called  again,  more  in 
sistent. 

"Yes  ?"  I  answered,  lifting  my  hat  and  step 
ping  lightly  toward  the  carriage. 


A  FILLIP  TO  CURIOSITY 

"Julian,  this  is  delightful!  Come,  please, 
before  people  begin  to  stare  at  us." 

It  was  the  nymph  with  the  eyes  of  blue  who 
said  this.  The  other  was  a  nut-brown  maid  a 
trifle  younger,  with  a  general  "tan"  effect 
which  extended  from  her  gloves  to  her  cheeks. 
I  thought  she  was  laughing  roguishly.  In  the 
eyes  of  blue  was  a  look  I  could  not  fathom; 
yet,  to  my  surprise,  I  fancied  I  detected  a  tear. 
At  the  moment  the  whole  thing  seemed  a  part 
of  a  play,  such  as  I  had  witnessed  the  night 
before  in  one  of  the  metropolitan  theatres. 

I  was  not  quite  prepared  for  what  followed. 
One  never  is,  I  think,  when  the  happening  falls 
the  least  bit  out  of  the  ordinary. 

The  footman  gave  me  a  push  and  a  lift,  just 
as  if  he  were  a  kidnapper  and  I  the  child  of  a 
millionaire  pork  packer  worth  a  fabulous  ran 
som.  This  was  so  unexpected  that  I  fairly  fell 
into  the  carriage,  and  into  the  lap  of  the  nymph 
with  the  eyes  of  blue.  Then  my  heart  leaped; 
for  she  put  her  arms  round  my  neck  and  began 
to  kiss  me  with  a  rapture  surpassing  that  of  the 
most  emotional  of  actresses. 

"I  think  I  shall  enjoy  this  immensely,  if  you 
will  but  give  me  breathing  space,"  I  said,  be 
wildered,  yet  determined  to  carry  it  off  as  lightly 
as  I  could. 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"How  could  you?  How  could  you?"  she 
demanded. 

"My  recollection  assures  me  that  I  was  as 
sisted,"  was  my  answer,  as  I  placed  myself  in 
an  easier  and  more  satisfying  posture.  "But, 
then,  such  assistance  is  a  delight.  Where  is  the 
Castle?" 

"The  Castle?" 

"To  which  I  am  now  to  be  taken.  I  think 
you  must  be  the  Princess  I  saw  in  the  play  last 
night,  and  I  the  Wounded  Knight.  Of  course 
you  will  treat  me  well  when  you  get  me  there! 
But  I  can  stand  even  a  donjon-keep,  I  assure 
you,  if  you  will  but  stay  close  by  me." 

I  freed  myself  and  looked  at  Her.  But  for 
the  brilliant  flush  of  her  cheeks,  her  face  was 
white,  too  white,  due  I  thought  to  the  sombre 
hue  of  her  clothing. 

"What,  crying?"  I  said.  "Forgive  my  lev 
ity.  You  can't  expect  me  to  take  this  thing 
seriously,  though.  And  for  Heaven's  sake,  tell 
me  just  what  is  the  meaning  of  our  play-acting  ? 
I  am  willing  to  be  Knight  (Wounded,  or  other 
wise)  to  two  such  charming  Princesses.  And 
I  admit  I  am  hard  hit,  if  not  sorely  wounded. 
But  even  a  Wounded  Knight  may  be  allowed 
curiosity." 

"Julian,  this  is  not  play-acting!" 


A  FILLIP  TO  CURIOSITY 

"No?" 

"Certainly  not." 

"Then  what  is  it?" 

"We  are  taking  you  home." 

I  sat  up  straighter  and  looked  at  her  even 
more  intently.  My  face  must  have  revealed 
the  puzzled  state  of  my  mind. 

"And  now  that  I  have  found  you,  you  shall 
never,  never  go  away  again]"  she  declared. 

I  gasped  my  amazement. 

"Home!"  cried  the  Adorable  One  to  the 
driver,  in  a  voice  of  liquid  sweetness.  (It  was 
really  liquid  —  she  was  crying!) 

The  horses  gave  a  jump,  the  carnage  swung 
round,  and  we  were  rolling  swiftly  toward  the 
city. 

My  emotions  ran  the  gamut.  The  jerk  of 
the  carriage  had  thrown  me  heavily  against  the 
cushions,  and  the  woman  who  had  captured  me 
(I  felt  at  the  moment  that  I  had  been  captured) 
was  declaring  what  wild  nonsense  I  knew  not. 

I  was  aware  that  the  other  nymph  was  utter 
ing  sundry  ejaculations  that  seemed  almost 
hysterical,  but  she  at  least  did  not  throw  her 
arms  round  my  neck  and  kiss  me! 

"I  don't  know  that  I  ought  to  object  to  this, 
since  it  is  so  pleasant,"  I  said,  trying  hard  to  be 
humorous.  "Still,  if  I  may  be  permitted  a 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

question,  I  should  be  pleased,  like  the  con 
gressman  of  refreshing  memory,  to  know  just 
'where  we  are  at*  ?" 

"Julian,"  She  answered,  "we  can't  discuss 
the  matter  now.  I  think  I  understand."  (I 
was  sure  I  did  not!)  "You  are  my  husband, 
and  you  are  going  home  with  me." 

Good  Heavens!  Her  husband!  I  gave  a 
jump  of  astonishment. 

"Of  course  I  am  nothing  of  the  kind,"  I  re 
plied.  "You  must  have  a  reason,  though,  for 
saying  it.  And  also,  of  course,  it  is  a  weighty 
one." 

But  my  levity  had  grown  a  little  heavy. 

"I  have  the  best  of  reasons.  It  is  true.  And 
you  are  going  home  with  me." 

"And  then  what?"  I  asked. 

"You  are  to  remain  with  me  —  forever  and 
ever." 

"But  if,"  I  cried  —  "if  you  discover  that  I 
am  not  your  husband  —  that  this  is  a  mistake  ? 
I  haven't  the  pleasure  at  this  moment  of  being 
the  husband  of  any  woman.  It  is  my  loss,  I 
know,  and  — " 

"We  will  not  discuss  the  matter,  Julian!" 

Though  sweet  and  kindly,  the  tone  was  final. 

"Julian  what?"  I  asked  irrelevantly,  when 
shunted  thus  into  a  side-track. 


A  FILLIP  TO  CURIOSITY 

"Randolph,  of  course.  Have  you  forgotten 
your  own  name?" 

"If  that  is  my  name,  I  certainly  have,"  I 
answered.  "The  last  time  I  took  stock  of  my 
personal  belongings  my  name  was  Louis  Ar- 
mitage." 

"I  think  I  understand,"  she  said,  calmly. 

I  stared  at  her,  and  at  the  girl  of  tan  who  was 
abetting  her.  Again  for  the  moment  I  was  sure 
I  had  been  chosen  as  the  hero  of  some  little 
comedy  whose  denouement  I  could  not  guess. 

"Very  well,"  I  said,  once  more  trying  to  be 
humorous.  "Does  Sherry's  lie  at  the  end  of 
the  road,  or  does  — " 

"I  think  I  said  that  we  are  going  home, 
Julian." 

We  were  soon  rolling  through  the  vista  of 
brownstone  mansions  on  Upper  Fifth  Avenue. 
I  glanced  at  the  driver  and  footman,  sedate  and 
wooden  in  their  places;  and  at  the  young  women, 
and  was  conscious  of  a  disquieting  air  of  reality. 
Romance  was  more  at  home  on  the  parkway 
boulevard  than  where  the  city's  architectural 
precision  seemed  devised  with  the  special  view 
of  banishing  it. 

"I  am  enjoying  the  present,  anyway,"  I  as 
serted,  a  bit  nervously  I  fear.  "I  only  wish  I 
were  Julian  Randolph.  I  should  like  to  con- 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

gratulate  him  for  a  lucky  dog.  And  I  shall 
always  count  it  a  piece  of  good  fortune  that  I 
look  so  like  him  as  to  have  deceived  his  charm 
ing  wife  and  her  equally  charming  friend." 

The  Charming  Friend  arched  her  eyebrows 
at  me.  And  she  had  lovely  brown  eyes  under 
those  arched  eyebrows  I  assure  you.  Still,  she 
was  far  from  being  as  beautiful,  in  my  opinion 
at  least,  as  Mrs.  Julian  Randolph. 

I  actually  began  to  be  jealous  of  Randolph. 
What  did  the  despicable  fellow  mean  ?  Had 
he  abandoned  this  woman,  and  conducted  him 
self  in  such  an  absurd  manner  that  she  felt  she 
must  abduct  him  as  soon  as  she  saw  him  if  she 
meant  to  retain  him  at  all  ?  And  then  my  mind, 
from  such  questions,  leaped  back  to  the  con 
clusion  that  this  was  but  play-acting.  Though 
the  purpose  I  could  not  fathom. 

I  began  to  ask  more  questions,  to  which  there 
were  more  puzzling  answers  and  protestations 
mingled  with  tears,  and  even  more  laughter  from 
the  nut-brown  maid.  Her  name,  I  learned,  was 
Margaret;  or  at  least  she  was  called  that  by  Mrs. 
Randolph,  and  she  was  Mrs.  Randolph's  sister. 

When  the  carriage  stopped  before  one  of  the 
brownstone  houses  and  the  footman  swung 
down  to  open  the  carriage  door,  I  was  as  bewil 
dered  as  in  the  beginning. 

8 


A  FILLIP  TO  CURIOSITY 

I  could  have  laughed  at  the  manner  in  which 
these  women  watched  me  as  I  stepped  to  the 
pavement,  and  at  the  cautious  way  in  which 
the  footman  dropped  in  behind,  like  a  rear 
guard,  as  I  moved,  under  their  escort,  toward 
the  wide  stone  steps. 

Now  was  my  time  to  retreat;  to  fly,  even.  I 
confess  to  a  moment  of  indecision.  I  know 
I  was  hoping  that  whatever  did  come  of  it,  a 
further  and  better  acquaintance  with  Kitty 
Randolph  (was  that  her  real  name  ?)  would 
result.  And  then  ?  Well,  I  knew  I  should 
make  the  most  of  the  possibilities  of  that 
acquaintance. 

In  the  frame  of  mind  of  expecting  anything, 
even  the  most  unlikely,  I  was  conducted,  almost 
pulled,  into  the  house.  With  the  footman 
swinging  in  behind,  as  if  to  prevent  my  escape, 
that  entrance  hinted  of  feudal  days  and  robber 
castles.  I  don't  recall  that  history  records  any 
instance  of  a  robber  Princess  sallying  forth  and 
capturing  a  husband.  But  it  may  have  hap 
pened.  Even  history  isn't  argus-eyed.  The  re 
verse  of  that,  however,  has  given  history  and 
fiction  some  of  their  most  enchanting  pages. 

Disappointment  awaited  me  within,  for  the 
house  was  modern.  There  were  no  cells,  or 
prison  doors.  No  grim  jailer  stood  clanking 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

iron  keys  and  rusty  manacles.  The  carved  and 
polished  stair  railing  against  which  my  shoulder 
was  brushing  was  a  work  of  art.  Disgusted 
Romance  could  stand  no  more,  but  spread 
bright-hued  wings  and  disappeared,  to  fly  back 
to  the  park,  and  perhaps  doze  and  dream  again 
by  the  obelisk.  I  stood  bewildered. 

"And  now,"  She  said,  still  clinging  to  me, 
"I  wish  you  would,  or  could,  tell  me  why  — 
why  —  why  you  vanished  in  that  mysterious 
manner  and  left  us  to  believe  you  were  dead  ?" 

She  stood  before  me,  young  and  charming. 
Her  blue  eyes  had  misty,  mysterious  depths. 
Excitement  had  colored  her  cheeks  until  they 
glowed  —  burned.  Yet  I  saw  that  her  com 
plexion  could  boast  the  delicate  tints  of  the 
pink  sea-shell.  She  had  intelligence,  and  that 
sweet  femininity  for  which  there  are  no  words, 
or  for  which  I  at  least  have  none  adequate. 

Her  sister  plucked  from  a  silver  tray  a  square 
envelope  and  tore  it  open  with  a  snap. 

"Jack  will  be  here  this  evening,"  she  said, 
as  she  glanced  at  the  contents. 

She  was  matter-of-fact,  for  she  began  to 
draw  the  pin  out  of  her  hat.  Yes,  Romance 
had  flown  back  to  the  parkway  and  the  obelisk. 
I  looked  at  her.  I  had  seen  her  picture  —  the 
Athletic  American  Girl.  Her  cheeks  were 

10 


A  FILLIP  TO  CURIOSITY 

tanned;  as  she  rolled  back  a  glove  I  saw  that 
her  firm,  hard  wrists  and  hands  were  tanned; 
even  her  brown  hair  had  a  tint  of  sunshine. 

I  turned  with  as  much  nonchalance  as  I  could 
to  Mrs.  Randolph. 

"Now  that  you  have  caught  me,"  I  said 
brazenly,  "let  us  end  play-acting  for  a  little 
while  until  you  tell  me  what  you  intend  to  do 
with  me." 

Her  fingers  tightened  on  my  arm. 

"Keep  you!"  she  cried  with  dramatic  in 
tensity. 

"That  will  be  delightful!"  I  declared  with 
mock  emphasis. 

If  I  had  been  really  her  husband,  as  she  as 
serted  with  such  vehemence,  it  would  have  been 
Heaven  to  me,  I  began  to  realize,  to  be  with 
her  always.  And  this  would  have  been  true 
if,  not  being  her  husband,  there  were  hopes  that 
some  day  I  might  become  her  husband. 

"I  suppose  you  can't  explain  why  you  went 
away?"  she  urged,  and  I  observed  that  the 
nut-brown  maid  listened  for  my  answer. 

"Not  in  the  least,"  I  said,  resuming  my  tone 
of  banter.  "It  is  inexplicable.  I  shall  never 
do  so  again." 

"But  you  know  where  you  have  been  ?" 

"Luckily,  in  Central  Park  this  afternoon.     I 

ii 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

must  have  been  waiting  for  you,  expecting  you, 
though  not  aware  of  it." 

"Don't  jest,  Julian!"  she  cried. 

"I  am  not  jesting,"  I  declared,  "though  the 
situation  seems  worthy  of  it." 

I  was  drawn  into  a  small  sitting  room,  richly 
furnished. 

"Julian,"  she  said,  "you  puzzle  me.  You 
seem  to  be  jesting,  and  yet  I  know  you  can't 
be;  for  no  man  could  jest  under  such  circum 
stances.  Unless  — " 

"Unless  he  was  out  of  his  mind  ?" 

"Just  so." 

"Or  chanced  not  to  be  the  man  he  was 
supposed  to  be." 

The  nut-brown  maid  had  vanished,  but  was 
returning,  and  I  heard  what  seemed  a  stir  of 
excitement  among  the  servants.  I  began  to 
feel  that  this  was  not  a  madcap's  prank,  but  a 
case  of  mistaken  identity.  Julian  Randolph  was 
dead;  I  was  supposed  to  be  Julian  Randolph; 
and  this  woman  believed  herself  to  be  my  wife. 
And  I  was  reaching  the  quick  realization  that 
she  was  the  One  Woman  intended  for  me  of  the 
gods. 

Maid  or  widow,  I  determined  quickly  that  I 
would  win  her.  Yet  as  I  registered  the  vow 
I  realized  how  handicapped  I  was  by  my  singu- 

12 


A  FILLIP  TO  CURIOSITY 

lar  position.  Then  I  began  to  feel  that  as  an 
honest  man  my  first  duty  was  to  undeceive  her. 
I  arose  from  my  chair,  hesitating. 

The  movement  alarmed  her.  She  had  been 
reading  my  face,  and  thought  I  meant  to  depart. 

"  Julian,"  she  exclaimed,  "  if  you  try  to  go  I 
shall  have  the  servants  detain  you!" 

I  laughed  uneasily. 

"You  still  insist  that  I  am  your  husband?" 
I  asked,  looking  into  her  serious  eyes. 

"Yes,  of  course." 

"But  if  I  insist  with  equal  emphasis  that  I 
am  not  your  husband,  what  then  ?" 

Her  answer  came  without  hesitation : 

"I  shall  know  that  I  am  right  and  that  you 
are  wrong." 

"But  you  will  admit  that  a  man  is  likely  to 
know  who  he  is  ?" 

"And  you  must  admit  that  a  woman  is  sure 
to  know  her  own  husband,  even  though  for 
some  reason  he  denies  his  identity!" 

The  silver  bell  of  a  clock  tinkled  somewhere. 

"Be  good  now!"  she  said.  "You  will  have 
barely  time  to  dress  for  our  early  dinner.  I 
will  show  you  to  your  rooms,  and  your  old  valet 
will  come  to  you  at  once.  We're  going  to  be 
just  as  we  were  in  the  old  days,  you  know." 


II 

I    LEARN   ABOUT   MYSELF 

YOU  will  agree  with  me  that  to  be  in  the 
home    of  a  man  who  is    dead,  or  sup 
posed  to  be  dead,  and  to  have  his  wife 
(or  his  widow)   believe  that  you  are  her  hus 
band,  returned  to  her,  is  no  ordinary  experi 
ence.     If  the  woman  is  of  compelling  loveliness 
the  experience  is  no  more  strange  perhaps;  yet 
that  circumstance  certainly  adds  to  its  strength 
if,  as  in  my  case,  you   find  yourself  at  once 
madly,  overwhelmingly  in  love  with  her. 

What  was  I  to  do  ?  I  was  resolved  to  win 
her.  I  had  tried,  facetiously  and  feebly  enough, 
to  enlighten  her.  She  had  not  believed.  And 
there  was  something  in  her  manner  which  as 
sured  me  she  would  never  believe.  I  could  fly 
from  the  house,  out  into  the  street,  and  there 
lose  myself;  or  flee  from  the  city;  but  even  then 
she  would  not  believe.  The  light  which  had 
come  into  those  sapphire  eyes  would  be 
quenched  by  my  act,  and  the  heart  that  had 
throbbed  so  tumultuously  against  my  own 
would  be  torn  by  unspeakable  anguish.  She 


I  LEARN  ABOUT  MYSELF 

would  search  for  me,  would  grieve  for  me;  and 
she  would  not  believe.  And  —  I  should  lose 
her  forever! 

Am  I  a  villain  ?  Hear  me  to  the  end,  and 
see. 

I  had  been  shown  to  the  rooms  which  were 
said  to  be  mine.  They  contained  everything  to 
make  for  comfort.  Pipes  and  tobacco  jars, 
and  fragrant  Havanas,  so  old  and  dry  that  they 
were  flaky  and  powdery  to  the  touch,  invited 
me.  As  I  prowled  curiously  about,  like  a  cat 
in  a  strange  garret,  I  even  found  a  little  side 
board,  with  glasses,  a  case  of  wine  and  some 
bottles  of  champagne  and  whiskey.  A  glance 
into  another  room  revealed  fencing  foils,  pis 
tols,  a  hammerless  shotgun,  and  a  desk  of 
books.  A  cleanly  disorder  was  everywhere,  as 
if  the  owner  had  departed  intending  to  return 
soon,  and  never  having  done  so  they  had  been 
kept  as  left  with  scrupulous  care.  I  confess  it 
gave  me  a  queer  feeling. 

I  looked  at  myself  in  a  long  pier  glass,  and 
saw  there  a  young  man,  beardless,  with  brown, 
well-meaning  eyes,  a  pleasant  though  not  a  par 
ticularly  handsome  face,  a  firm  mouth,  a  chin 
which  for  the  first  time  I  fancied  indicated  a 
trace  of  weakness,  abundant  dark  hair,  and 
a  well-knit  figure. 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

I  was  contemplating  this  picture  when  I  felt 
a  presence. 

As  I  turned,  a  soft-footed  man  stood  before 
me;  a  young  man,  of  about  my  own  age,  with 
an  English  cast  of  countenance.  He  was  speak 
ing  to  me: 

"Will  you  have  a  shave,  sir,  before  dinner?" 

I  looked  in  the  mirror  again,  to  assure  myself 
that  this  was  not  a  dream,  and  rubbed  my  hand 
across  my  chin. 

"Will  we  have  time?"  I  asked,  dubiously. 

"I  think  so,  sir." 

He  began  to  bring  clothing  from  a  side  room. 

"Just  as  you  left  them,  sir!"  he  said,  with 
deep  meaning. 

There  was  a  slight  flush  on  his  white,  clean 
face.  Yet  his  hands,  white,  with  long,  clean 
fingers  and  polished  nails,  did  not  tremble. 

I  hesitated;  then  moved  to  the  chair  he  indi 
cated. 

"Tell  me,"  I  said,  as  I  took  my  seat  and  he 
began  to  tuck  the  immaculate  shaving  towel 
under  my  chin,  "  did  you  —  were  you  the  valet 
of  —  that  is,  my  valet,  before  — 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  said,  with  rare  understanding, 
lifting  my  chin  that  he  might  set  the  towel  better 
in  place.  "After  you  disappeared  I  wished  to  re 
main  with  the  family,  and  became  under  butler." 

16 


I  LEARN  ABOUT  MYSELF 

The  swift  assurance  of  his  answer  was  enough 
to  make  my  brain  whirl. 

"When  did  I  — disappear?" 

"A  year  ago  last  autumn,  sir,  near  the  close 
of  the  season.  I  remember  it  well,  sir;  and  it 
seems  a  miracle  to  have  you  here,  and  me  be 
getting  ready  to  shave  you.  Indeed  it  does, 
sir." 

I  wanted  to  look  him  in  the  face  again,  to  see 
if  he  were  joking;  but  he  was  holding  my  head 
to  one  side,  as  he  went  on  with  his  prepara 
tions. 

"I  was  supposed  to  be  dead  ?"  I  stammered. 

"Yes,  sir;  just  so,  sir.     They  buried  you." 

"Buried  me?" 

"It  was  not  you,  sir,  of  course,  as  we  know 
now;  but  they  buried  some  one  they  thought 
was  you.  I  myself  thought  it  was  you.  And, 
sir,  you  could  have  knocked  me  down  with  a 
feather  when  I  heard  that  you  had  returned  and 
was  not  dead  at  all,  and  —  Does  my  hand 
shake,  sir?" 

This  was  overwhelming,  and  I  lay  still  a 
moment. 

"Have  I  changed  any?  In  appearance,  I 
mean." 

"Very  little,  sir.  You  are  thinner;  but  that 
is  to  be  expected,  sir." 

17 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

He  stood  off  and  looked  at  me;  and,  turning 
my  head,  I  now  looked  him  full  in  the  face. 
He  was  apparently  in  sober  earnest,  his  manner 
softened  by  the  tremendous  discovery  that  his 
old  master,  whom  he  had  seen  dead  and  buried, 
was  still  in  the  flesh,  and  was  there,  in  the  old 
room,  talking  with  him  and  getting  ready  for 
dinner,  as  in  the  old  days. 

"  Just  how  have  I  changed  ?" 

"That  is  all,"  he  said  —  "about  all,  sir;  you 
are  thinner,  your  hair  seems  a  bit  stiffer  and 
harsher  —  it  has  not  had  proper  attention,  I 
fear;  your  face  is  not  quite  so  dark,  because  it  is 
not  so  tanned.  You  were  a  very  tanned  man, 
sir;  from  the  wind,  on  the  yachting  trips,  you 
know,  and  from  exposure  to  the  weather  while 
golfing  and  autoing.  But,  really,  sir,  the 
change  is  inconsiderable.  I  should  have  known 
you  in  an  instant  anywhere;  even  in —  '  he 
hesitated  for  a  word  to  express  remoteness, 
then  fell  back  on  the  old,  familiar  —  "  in  China, 
sir." 

"What  am  I  to  call  you?"  I  asked,  when  I 
had  digested  this;  and  I  wondered  what  he 
would  think  of  the  question  as  I  put  it. 

"  Jerome,  sir  —  Jerome  Barnard.  Your  mem 
ory  is  not  very  good,  sir." 

His  tone  acknowledged  that,  while  he  had 

18 


I  LEARN  ABOUT  MYSELF 

expected  nothing  else,  it  hurt  him  to  have  re 
ceived  no  more. 

"It  was  bad  before  —  before  I  went  away  ?" 

"No,  sir;  I  think  not,  sir." 

He  had  lathered  my  face,  and  was  strop 
ping  the  razor,  whacking  it  sharply  against  the 
leather. 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  I  said,  as  he  came  back 
to  me  and  began  to  draw  the  keen  blade  over 
my  cheek. 

"Yes,  sir.  We  were  in  Maine,  you  know,  at 
Camden-by-the-Sea.  We  had  gone  there  in  the 
Idler." 

"That's  the  name  of  the  yacht  ?" 

"Yes,  sir;  glad  to  see  that  you  remember  her, 
sir.  We  had  gone  by  the  way  of  Newport, 
Boston,  and  York  Harbor,  stopping  at  each 
place  for  a  short  time.  The  Idler  is  out  of  com 
mission  now;  Mrs.  Randolph  would  have  noth 
ing  more  to  do  with  her." 

"Go  on,"  I  urged.  The  whole  affair  was 
really  getting  on  my  nerves. 

"Yes,  sir."  He  turned  my  head,  and  applied 
the  razor  to  the  other  cheek.  "We  had  been 
there  two  or  three  weeks.  Camden  is  a  beauti 
ful  place,  you  know,  with  the  mountains  just  by 
it  and  the  bay  in  front,  and  The  Poplars  is  a 
handsome  estate.  Yet  I  remember  that  you 

19 


THE   CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

became  restless,  sir,  and  talked  about  going  to 
Bar  Harbor.  You  went  down  to  the  Idler, 
to  see  the  captain  about  it;  and  that  was  the 
last  that  we  saw  of  you,  sir.  You  took  the 
boat,  to  pull  off  to  the  yacht;  or,  we  supposed 
that  you  did.  It  was  the  yacht's  boat,  and  had 
been  left  for  you,  so  that  you  could  go  aboard 
when  you  liked.  It  was  found  next  day,  sir, 
on  the  shore,  overturned." 

"And—" 

"Yes,  sir;  the  body  that  we  supposed  was 
yours  was  found  on  the  Lincolnville  beach,  two 
months  later.  Of  course  the  time  that  had 
elapsed,  sir,  made  complete  identification  im 
possible;  but  no  one  doubted  that  the  body  was 
yours;  I  did  not,  sir." 

"Mrs.  Randolph  doubted?" 

"Perhaps  she  did,  sir;  I  have  heard  that  she 
did.  I  have  heard  that  she  never  would  believe 
but  that  you  had  wandered  away  in  a  fit  of 
mental  aberration.  But  no  one  else  thought 
so,  sir;  none  of  the  servants  thought  so." 

For  a  while  I  lay  thinking  quietly. 

"Did  Mrs.  Randolph  make  further  search 
afterward  ?" 

"I  have  heard  that  she  did,  sir;  that  was  the 
talk  among  the  servants.  I  never  heard  her 
speak  of  it." 

20 


I  LEARN  ABOUT  MYSELF 

"And  it  was  generally  accepted  that  the  body 
found  was  Julian  Randolph's  ?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"The  thing  must  have  made  quite  a  stir  at 
the  time?" 

"It  did,  sir." 

The  very  queerness  of  the  situation  gave  me 
a  strange  feeling.  If  I  had  not  recalled  my 
own  past  so  well,  had  not  known  just  what  I 
was  doing  yesterday,  and  the  day  before,  and 
the  day  before  that,  with  recollections  running 
back  over  the  months  and  years,  I  might  have 
begun  to  doubt  my  own  identity.  I  wanted  to 
shake  myself  at  intervals,  to  make  sure  that  I 
was  not  dreaming. 

I  hesitated  again,  as  he  brought  out  clothing; 
then  decided  with  reckless  haste  to  go  ahead 

O 

and  see  what  would  come  of  this  queer  adven 
ture.  He  assisted  me  into  the  clothing  he 
provided,  and  I  found  that  I  was  fitted  to 
perfection. 

As  I  went  down  to  dinner  I  saw  him  smiling 
in  what  I  thought  an  odd  way,  and  it  flashed 
on  me  that  perhaps  he  was  deep  in  some  plot 
against  me.  And  this  impression  increased  as 
I  descended  the  stairs. 


21 


Ill 


IN   THE    CASTLE    OF   DOUBT 

MRS.  RANDOLPH  was  waiting  for  me 
at  the  entrance  to  the  spacious  dining 
room.  Though  there  was  a  soft-bulbed 
electric  light  in  the  hall,  a  firefly  caught  in  the 
calyx  of  a  lily,  the  broad  branches  of  the  palm 
by  which  she  stood  shadowed  her  face  and  gave 
an  unfathomable  depth  to  her  eyes. 

She  was  dressed  somewhat  soberly,  as  she 
had  been  that  afternoon,  as  a  woman  naturally 
would  be  whose  husband  was  not  two  years 
dead.  Yet  as  I  joined  her  I  observed  that  her 
face  was  radiant  and  that  her  eyes  were  bright 
as  stars. 

"Julian!"  she  cried. 

The  tone  was  low,  with  a  rapturous  catching 
of  the  breath.  With  that  clouding  suspicion  in 
my  mind  it  further  bewildered  me.  My  face 
flushed,  embarrassment  seized  me,  and  I  be 
came  a  prisoner  in  the  Castle  of  Doubt. 

But  by  an  effort  I  got  control  of  myself,  and 
resumed  the  light  air  which  so  far  had  served 
me  well  when  talking  with  her.  And  again  the 

22 


IN  THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

marvellous  beauty  and  charm  of  the  woman 
captured  my  will  and  forced  me  to  go  for 
ward. 

"I  am  enjoying  this  so  thoroughly,"  I  de 
clared,  "that  I  am  glad  I  did  not  go  away." 

She  gave  me  a  strange,  quick,  startled  look. 
The  color  fled  from  her  cheeks,  to  return  in 
stantly  with  added  brilliance. 

"Shall  we  go  in  ?"  she  asked  gently. 

"Yes,"  I  said.  "This  is  even  better  than 
Sherry's,  for  the  crowd  is  absent." 

I  swept  the  interior  of  the  dining  room  at  a 
glance  as  she  took  my  arm.  My  trepidation 
increased  on  discovering  that  two  persons  were 
present  in  addition  to  the  servants.  One  of 
these  was  Margaret  Hansborough,  Mrs.  Ran 
dolph's  nut-brown  sister.  The  other  was  a 
young  man  whom  I  had  not  yet  seen.  They 
had  been  sitting  by  a  window,  and  rose  hur 
riedly  together  as  we  entered. 

Resolving  to  see  this  thing  through,  I  was 
being  plunged  into  deeper  and  yet  deeper  depths. 
Apparently,  the  way  out  —  if  there  was  a  way 
out  —  was  to  go  straight  ahead.  And  straight 
ahead  I  went,  feeling  the  soft  hand  on  my  arm 
clutching  with  singular  and  tremulous  earnest 
ness.  If  these  women  were  playing  a  part  — 

My  eyes  met  those  of  Miss  Hansborough  with 

23 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

a  sharp  and  searching  glance.  She  was  smiling, 
even  radiant,  yet  I  did  not  think  she  was  smil 
ing  at  me.  On  her  tanned  cheeks  was  a  flush, 
of  joy  apparently  in  her  sister's  restored  happi 
ness.  Her  brown  eyes  held  shifting  and  un 
certain  lights.  Just  now  they  were  sparkling. 
Her  smile  displayed  her  white,  even  teeth. 
Health  and  vitality  radiated  from  her.  Here 
was  a  girl,  I  saw,  to  whom  the  mere  joy  of 
living  was  a  supreme  pleasure. 

I  expected  that  the  smooth-faced,  athletic 
young  man  with  her  would  be  introduced  to 
me;  but  he  bounded  forward,  with  almost  a 
college  yell,  and  catching  my  hand  squeezed  it 
until  it  ached.  You  see,  he  knew  me,  even 
though  I  did  not  know  him;  he  was  Jack 
Benson,  and  Margaret  Hansborough's  fiance. 
I  (that  is,  not  I,  but  Julian  Randolph)  had 
known  him  well  —  we  had  been  close  friends. 
Benson  was  a  student  at  Harvard,  I  learned 
later,  and  Randolph  a  Harvard  graduate;  and 
that  was  another  tie,  in  addition  to  the  very 
obvious  one  that  Randolph  had  married  one 
Hansborough  sister  and  Benson  expected  to 
marry  the  other. 

I  said  nothing,  in  answer  to  his  exclamations 
of  delight,  even  though  he  capered  so  boyishly. 
Yet  I  could  not  remain  silent,  and  it  seemed 

24 


IN  THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

impossible  to  retreat.  I  was  like  a  driven  pig 
in  an  alley.  If  I  balked  the  devil  would  be  to 
pay.  There  was  nothing  to  do  but  to  dash 
wildly  ahead  and  see  what  came  of  it. 

Whatever  came  of  it,  I  should  for  a  while  be 
near  the  woman  who  had  filched  my  heart. 
There  are  times  when  a  man  will  sell  his  chances 
of  Heaven  for  the  glance  of  a  woman's  eyes, 
and  I  think  that  time  came  for  me  then.  That 
story  of  the  hairy  brother,  the  mess  of  pottage 
and  the  birthright  applies  to  all  of  us. 

So  I  took  the  desperate  leap;  and  the  next 
moment  I  was  answering  Jack  Benson's  excla 
mations  and  questions  (strangely  there  were 
very  few  questions!)  to  the  best  of  my  ability, 
and  it  was  a  very  limited  ability  just  then. 
Though  his  voice  rang  clear,  there  was  a  serious 
look  in  his  eyes,  as  if  he  knew  he  faced  a  seri 
ous  situation  but  was  resolved  to  go  through  it 
with  credit. 

I  have  said  his  questions  were  few;  they  were 
also  innocuous. 

"I  hope  you  are  well?"  he  began. 

"Never  better,"  I  answered,  trying  to  respond 
easily  to  this  easy  one. 

I  wondered  if  my  voice  sounded  like  Julian 
Randolph's.  I  had  forgotten  to  ask  that  of  the 
valet. 

25 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

I  slipped  into  the  chair  which  the  servant 
pushed  under  me  at  the  table.  Observing  that 
I  had  the  seat  of  McGregor,  it  broke  on  me 
with  overwhelming  force  that  I  was  recognized 
as  the  head  of  the  house. 

"Well, I'm  glad  to  see  you!  "  Benson  declared 
again. 

He  beamed  upon  me,  and  the  two  women  did 
the  same. 

Then  he  looked  at  the  girl  opposite  him,  as 
if  thinking  that  never  could  he  have  remained 
away  from  Miss  Hansborough  after  the  manner 
of  Julian  Randolph.  But  alas,  my  thought 
was,  how  could  poor  Randolph  help  it,  when 
he  was  dead  ? 

"I  stand  condemned  for  heartlessness,"  I 
answered,  speaking  to  the  unvoiced  question. 

I  began  to  feel  easier,  for  I  perceived  by  a 
sort  of  intuition  that  this  master  of  the  house 
in  whose  seat  I  sat  had  been  a  wealthy  eccentric 
whose  doings  were  unaccountable  to  everybody 
and  therefore  I  was  not  to  be  pressed  hard  to 
explain  my  supposed  singular  conduct.  But  in 
a  moment  Jack  Benson  had  started  again,  and 
he  now  had  me  guessing. 

"That  last  plunge  of  yours  was  into  Africa; 
perhaps  you  returned  to  your  old  stamping 
ground  there  and  brought  down  some  new  kind 

26 


IN  THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

of  wild  beast,  maybe  an  okapi,  with  those  soft- 
nosed  bullets  you  told  me  about  ?  You  re 
member  them  ?" 

"Oh,  I  remember  them!"  I  cried  desperately. 
"Yes,  I  found  new  game.  You  can't  know  how 
interesting  it  was." 

I  felt  that  I  was  becoming  as  brazen  as  the 
dining  room  clock,  which  seemed  trying  hard 
to  stare  me  out  of  countenance.  Likely  it  was 
ashamed  of  me,  for  as  I  finished  that  "whop 
per"  its  bell  tinkled,  as  much  as  to  say,  "Ring 
off!" 

But  I  was  listening  for  the  voice  of  Mrs. 
Randolph;  and  I  heard  it  now,  liquid  as  water, 
yet  vibrant,  and  sweet  as  the  note  of  a  bird : 

"  It  was  —  just  a  little  strange.  We'll  all 
understand  it  better  by  and  by." 

Mrs.  Randolph  was  watching  me  attentively, 
while  trying  to  appear  not  to  be  doing  so,  and 
the  quick  color  was  coming  and  going  in  her 
cheeks,  which  at  one  moment  were  pale  and 
the  next  a  rich  carmine.  Miss  Hansborough 
alone  seemed  cool,  and  a  look  into  her  smiling 
face  had  for  me  the  effect  of  a  breath  from 
glacial  heights. 

"When  I  got  back  from  Africa,"  I  said,  "I 
felt  so  lost  without  the  familiar  African  at 
mosphere  that  I  began  to  haunt  the  obelisk 

27 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

over  in  Central  Park.  It  was  near  there  that 
they  found  me,  you  know." 

I  addressed  the  remark  to  Benson. 

"Of  course  you  noticed  the  little  ibises  that 
stroll  and  teeter  all  over  the  thing,"  he  said, 
irreverently,  drawing  an  outline  of  one  in  mid 
air  with  his  fork.  "Somehow,  they  make  me 
think  of  the  swan  boats  in  the  Public  Gardens, 
in  Boston." 

Miss  Hansborough  laughed,  and  I  felt  better. 

"How  absurd!"  she  cried. 

"I  think  I  saw  the  originals  of  those  birds  on 
the  banks  of  the  Serpent  Nile,"  I  declared. 
"They  looked  old  enough  for  it,  any  way.  But 
the  Nile  wasn't  green,  as  I  always  thought;  there 
was  too  much  mud  in  it." 

"From  the  new  cuttings  and  dams  at  As 
souan,"  said  Jack,  understandingly. 

Pretty  soon,  I  felt,  I  should  be  believing  my 
self  the  man  these  generous  people  seemed  to 
think  me,  so  strong  is  the  self-deceit  of  acting. 
Wasn't  it  the  elder  Booth  who  once  became  so 
imbued  with  the  feeling  of  the  character  he  was 
portraying  that  he  nearly  ran  his  antagonist 
through,  forgetting  for  the  moment  that  he  was 
engaged  in  only  a  stage  duel  ?  I  was  but  an 
amateur,  yet  was  becoming  as  obsessed  as 
Booth  had  ever  been. 

28 


IN  THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"But  the  Nile  boats  are  as  picturesque  as 
ever,"  I  went  on,  "and  the  boatmen  and  fella 
heen  quite  as  dirty  and  thieving." 

The  words  came  trippingly,  and  in  imagina 
tion  I  saw  the  sunlight  on  the  date  palms  and 
the  plodding  of  the  desert  camels,  as  well  as 
fellaheen,  beggars  and  Nile  boats. 

"Were  you  over  there  long?"  Benson  asked. 

"Ages,"  I  answered,  smiling  at  him. 

Mrs.  Randolph  studied  my  face  with  a  quick 
and  comprehensive  glance. 

"You  haven't  been  back  a  great  while  ?"  she 
said. 

"Not  half  long  enough  to  get  re-acquainted 
with  myself.  I'm  so  Egyptianized  that  even  my 
words  stumble.  I  know  the  height  of  the  Pyra 
mid  of  Gizeh  a  good  deal  better  than  that  of  the 
Goddess  of  Liberty  down  here  in  the  harbor." 

"You  haven't  been  long  in  New  York  ?"  she 
went  on,  with  a  certain  sweet  and  tremulous 
persistence. 

I  ask  the  discriminating  reader  if  this  was  not 
sufficiently  puzzling  to  muddle  a  man  of  the 
levelest  head  ? 

"Not  very  long,"  I  answered,  evasively. 

"How  long?" 

Driven  thus  into  a  corner,  I  tried  to  get  out 
of  it  humorously,  and  floundered. 

29 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"About  five  feet  ten,"  I  said,  mentioning  my 
height,  for  I  could  think  of  no  suitable  reply. 

Though  the  answer  was  so  witless,  Miss 
Hansborough  laughed  again  in  her  jolly,  gen 
erous  way,  and  I  smiled  her  my  gratitude. 

"Thanks!"  I  cried  to  her.  "We,  at  least, 
shall  get  on  famously." 

"Think  so?"  she  said,  and  arched  her  eye 
brows  at  me  again  in  the  way  that  I  remem 
bered  and  thought  piquant  and  vivacious. 

"I'm  sure  of  it,"  I  declared. 

"That's  good;  for  you  know  I  always  liked 
you,  Julian." 

"And  I  simply  adored  you!"  I  asserted; 
whereupon  she  flushed  and  became  even  prettier 
than  before. 

"  My  adoration  of  pretty  women  explains  why 
I  am  here,"  I  added. 

My  comprehensive  glance  covered  both  her 
and  her  sister. 

"Mr.  Benson,"  I  said,  turning  to  him  in 
desperation,  "when  I  was  captured  and  brought 
here,  I  thought  at  first  that  the  thing  was  a  lark 
and  that  we  were  probably  bound  for  a  dinner 
at  Sherry's,  and  perhaps  the  theatre  later.  But 
this  is  better  than  both.  You  agree  with  me  ?" 

"I'm  ready  to  agree  with  you  in  anything," 
he  said,  almost  nervously. 

3° 


IN  THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"Then  you'll  agree  with  me,  that  when  a  man 
is  captured  in  a  public  place  by  two  pretty 
women,  one  of  whom  declares  that  she  is  his 
wife,  and  the  other  says  she  is  his  sister-in-law, 
and  the  intelligent  young  fellow  at  dinner  begins 
to  make  queer  remarks,  thus  abetting  them,  the 
situation  is  the  oddest  ever  ?" 

I  looked  at  him  so  level-eyed  that  his  already 
flushed  face  colored  still  more. 

"I  should  declare  it  unbelievable  —  a  page 
out  of  a  romantic  novel,"  he  answered,  sitting 
back  in  his  chair. 

"And  if  the  young  man  thus  captured  was  so 
puzzled  by  what  he  saw  and  heard  that  he 
wasn't  sure  if  the  thing  were  real  or  a  bit  of 
play-acting,  what  then?" 

"  I  should  call  it  two  pages  out  of  two  novels." 

He  met  my  glance  now  and  drew  a  question 
mark  on  the  cloth  with  his  fork.  I  thought  the 
question  mark  was  for  the  eyes  of  Miss  Hans- 
borough. 

Apparently  we  had  reached  the  end  of  the 
conversational  tether,  and  so  we  were  straying 
into  inane  paths  and  foolish  circles  that  began 
nowhere  and  ended  at  the  same  place. 

At  length,  in  spite  of  her  flow  of  volatile 
spirits,  Miss  Hansborough  seemed  to  feel  a 
growing  tension.  She  broke  a  red  rosebud  and 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

its  spray  of  green  from  the  cluster  before  her, 
with  a  nervous  shake  of  her  tanned  fingers. 

"Jack,"  she  said  brightly,  as  if  continuing  a 
conversation  that  had  been  dropped,  while  she 
fastened  the  rosebud  in  her  dark  hair,  "when 
that  Harvard-Yale  game  is  played  I  shall  wear 
a  bunch  of  these  as  big  as  a  plate — for  Harvard, 
you  know.  They're  not  exactly  crimson,  but — " 

"That  will  be  bully!"  Jack  commended, with 
over-earnestness.  "We'll  all  wear  soup-plate 
bouquets  of  red  roses." 

She  broke  off  a  full-blown  rose  and  waved  it 
over  her  head. 

"And  we'll  'Rah,  rah,  rah'  for  'Fair  Har 
vard'  until  we're  hoarse!" 

"And  if  Harvard  wins,  we'll  burn  red  fire  in 
the  yard  and  paint  the  statue  of  old  John  Har 
vard  a  brilliant  crimson!"  Jack  added. 

"//  we  win  ?  Jack,  you're  no  Harvard  man, 
if  you  doubt!" 

"Then  I  don't  doubt!"  he  cried.  "We'll 
win;  of  course  we'll  win." 

All  seemed  relieved  by  this  change  in  the 
current  of  talk.  Having  caught  his  cue,  and 
feeling  more  at  his  ease,  Jack,  with  Margaret, 
rattled  on  about  the  coming  Harvard-Yale  game, 
in  which  he  was  to  have  a  part  and  in  which  all 
of  us  were  assumed  to  be  intensely  interested. 

32 


IN  THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

Having  come  into  the  dining  room  with  the 
talk  of  the  valet  in  my  ears  and  a  sudden  sus 
picion  of  him  in  my  heart,  this  suspicion  had 
for  a  time  extended  to  Jack  Benson.  But  he, 
showing  now  the  true  enthusiasm  of  a  youthful 
undergraduate,  did  not  fit  my  preconception 
of  a  man  acting  a  part.  And  all  of  Benson's 
accessories  seemed  too  realistic,  from  the  loving 
glow  and  anxious  attitude  of  Mrs.  Randolph 
and  the  bright  girlishness  of  Miss  Hansborough 
to  the  quiet  deference  of  the  soft-footed  ser 
vants.  I  felt  that  it  was  I  who  was  playing  a 
part,  not  these  people,  and  my  embarrassment, 
my  sense  of  guilt  and  confusion,  grew  at  the 
thought. 

Yet  now,  as  before,  I  seemed  driven  on,  in  a 
path  I  had  not  chosen  and  whose  end  I  could 
not  foresee.  So  while  I  studied  the  situation  I 
continued  to  force  myself  to  talk,  forced  myself 
to  eat,  forced  myself  to  an  interest  in  college 
games  and  college  gossip,  and  even  into  an 
unnatural  and  unfelt  gayety.  I  was  aware  that 
Mrs.  Randolph  watched  me  closely,  not  as  if 
she  doubted  me,  but  as  with  a  rapture  tempered 
by  fears. 

The  courses  were  served  and  the  dinner  came 
to  an  end.  It  was  not  long,  I  suppose,  and  the 
conversation  was  as  bright,  and  after  the  begin- 

33 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

ning,  personally  as  colorless  as  the  wit  and  high 
spirits  of  Miss  Hansborough  and  Jack  Benson 
could  make  it;  yet  it  was  to  me  interminable, 
and  in  some  respects  painful;  and  I  was  glad  to 
rise  from  the  table. 

Benson  was  speaking  to  Miss  Hansborough 
when  Mrs.  Randolph  linked  her  arm  lovingly 
in  mine. 

"We're  going  right  back  to  the  old  ways, 
Julian,"  she  whispered,  giving  my  arm  a  pas 
sionate  pressure.  "Shall  we  have  some  music 
now,  or  would  you  prefer  to  smoke  with  Jack  in 
the  library?" 

"The  music,"  I  answered,  helplessly,  after  a 
moment  of  hesitation. 

"Margaret  plays  and  sings  even  better  than 
before,  I  think,"  she  said. 

She  turned  to  Miss  Hansborough. 

"Margaret,  Julian  thinks  he  would  like  to 
hear  you  sing." 

My  head  felt  giddy  as  we  went  into  the  music 
room,  where  Miss  Hansborough  seated  herself 
at  the  piano,  with  Jack  Benson  leaning  over  her 
and  assisting  her  in  running  through  some 
sheets  of  music. 

"Rag  time  is  my  favorite,"  Benson  an 
nounced,  youthfully,  as  he  produced  something 
from  the  pile. 

34 


IN  THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

I  sat  with  Mrs.  Randolph  near  one  of  the 
deep,  mullioned  windows.  The  curtains  of 
filmy  lace  served  somewhat  as  a  screen,  for 
which  I  was  not  sorry.  I  began  to  feel  the 
need  of  a  much  more  impenetrable  screen  to 
hide  my  growing  sense  of  confusion  and  guilt. 
Behind  that  screen  Mrs.  Randolph  drew  one  of 
my  hands  into  her  own  warm,  soft  palms,  and 
it  seemed  to  me  that  a  threat  of  tears  blurred 
her  eyes.  Yet  for  all  that  they  held  a  look  of 
contentment. 

Adaptability  to  all  sorts  of  singular  situations 
and  circumstances  I  had  thought  one  of  my 
strong  points,  yet  here  adaptability  and  the  self- 
command  necessary  to  play  my  part  were  both 
breaking  down. 

Miss  Hansborough  ignored  Benson's  invita 
tion  to  "rag  time,"  struck  a  deep  chord  from 
the  piano,  and  played  a  waltz. 

When,  in  response  to  Mrs.  Randolph's  re 
quest,  she  began  to  sing,  I  discovered  that  she 
had  a  contralto  voice  of  much  sweetness  and 
strength.  Benson  hovered  over  her,  turning  the 
sheets  of  the  music.  Now  and  then  they  had 
their  heads  together,  and  I  fancied  that  they 
were  speaking  of  me.  When  a  little  later,  after 
a  whispered  conversation  with  Benson,  Miss 
Hansborough  began  to  sing  one  of  the  old  songs, 

35 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

Mrs.  Randolph's  hands  tightened  on  mine  with 
a  nervous  clutch: 


"Could  ye  come  back  to  me,  Douglas!  Douglas! 

In  the  old  likeness  that  I  knew; 
I'd  be  so  loving,  so  faithful,  Douglas  — 
Douglas,  Douglas,  tender  and  true!" 

I  felt  Mrs.  Randolph  shiver  strangely,  and 
now  there  were  real  tears  in  her  eyes.  I  was 
almost  angry  with  Miss  Hansborough  and  Jack 
Benson.  For  the  moment  I  doubted  no  longer. 
Strange  though  it  seemed,  Mrs.  Randolph  be 
lieved  that  I  was  her  husband,  Julian  Randolph, 
returned  to  her;  Death  had  relented  and  given 
back  her  dead !  A  deep  pity  struggled  with  my 
self-contempt.  And  she  was  so  young  and  so 
beautiful;  I  longed  to  take  her  in  my  arms,  fold 
her  tightly  to  my  breast,  and  tell  her  that  though 
I  was  not  her  husband  I  already  loved  her  more 
than  her  husband  ever  could  have  loved  her, 
and  that  I  had  even  registered  a  vow  to  make 
her  my  wife.  Such  was  the  effect  on  me  of  her 
beauty  and  her  distress. 


IV 

THE   DISSEMBLER 

MISS  HANSBOROUGH  was  again  turn 
ing  the  pages  of  her  music.  But  Mrs. 
Randolph  was  considerate.  No  doubt 
she  wished  to  spare  herself  as  well  as  me. 

"Perhaps  you  would  enjoy  a  cigar  in  the 
library,"  she  suggested,  with  a  sweet  kindness 
that  held  yet  a  quiver  of  regret  —  regret  that 
I  should  be  separated  from  her  for  even  a 
little  while. 

I  managed  to  stammer  that  it  would  be  a 
pleasure.  Miss  Hansborough  looked  at  us,  with 
a  glance  at  Benson. 

"Julian  thinks  he  would  enjoy  a  cigar  in  the 
library,"  said  Mrs.  Randolph,  rising,  her  hand 
trembling  as  it  rested  for  an  instant  on  my 
shoulder,  trembling  as  it  seemed  to  me  with 
the  mere  pleasure  of  having  here  at  home 
again  the  husband  she  had  mourned  as  dead. 

Benson  produced  a  package  of  little  Havanas 
from  somewhere  as  we  passed  into  the  library, 
and  with  them  some  matches,  which  he  extended 
to  me. 

37 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"Thanks!"  I  said,  nervously. 

I  walked  over  to  a  window,  and  looked  down 
into  the  lighted  avenue,  questioning  what  I 
should  do.  The  "  clock-clock  "  of  beating  hoofs 
of  carriage  horses  rose  to  the  window.  From 
farther  off  came  the  subdued  roar  of  the  Ele 
vated,  the  grumble  of  cable  cars,  and  the  jar  of 
the  city's  traffic.  Long  lines  of  flashing  lights 
made  jewelled  ropes  in  the  darkness. 

It  was  hard  to  realize  that  a  few  hours  before 
I  had  not  known  there  was  such  a  woman  in 
the  world  as  Mrs.  Julian  Randolph,  nor  such 
a  house  as  this  brownstone  mansion  on  Fifth 
Avenue.  The  man  who  came  now  to  my  side, 
and  looked  with  me  out  on  those  shining  lights, 
had  been  to  me  then  as  if  he  had  not  existed. 
What  a  world  may  open  before  us  at  any  mo 
ment!  A  turn  of  the  road,  a  step,  and  it  is 
there,  with  all  its  interesting  and  mysterious 
novelty. 

"It's  been  a  fine  day,"  said  Benson,  obvi 
ously  groping  for  something  to  say. 

"And  Mrs.  Randolph  is  a  fine  woman!"  was 
my  irrelevant  answer. 

That  must  have  struck  him  strangely,  for  he 
gave  me  a  quick,  sharp  look. 

"Very!"  he  said. 

"  Have   you  —  er  —  known   her  —  been    ac- 

38 


THE  DISSEMBLER 

quainted  with  her  —  very  long?"  I  blundered, 
unable  to  conceal  my  feverish  interest. 

"Two  years,"  he  said;  "just  about  two  years. 
Margaret  —  that  is,  Miss  Hansborough  —  was 
visiting  friends  in  Cambridge.  I  met  her  — 
chanced  to  see  her,  you  know  —  and  succeeded 
in  getting  an  introduction." 

That  was  six  months  or  so  before  the  time  of 
the  singular  disappearance  of  Julian  Randolph, 
according  to  the  information  given  me  by  the 
valet. 

Benson  had  answered  fully,  but  as  if  prompt 
ing  one  who  ought  to  know,  and  he  seemed,  or 
pretended  to  seem,  puzzled.  He  did  not  need 
to  tell  me  the  rest.  Having  succeeded  in  getting 
an  introduction  to  Miss  Hansborough,  he  had 
continued  successfully  the  acquaintance  thus 
begun.  So  the  fellow  had  courage  and  persist 
ence!  But  his  face  had  already  told  me  that. 
Miss  Hansborough  had  courage  and  persistence, 
too,  as  I  had  seen.  I  wondered  vaguely  how  they 
would  get  on  together  when  they  were  married. 

I  noticed  now  that  though  Benson  had  fur 
nished  the  cigars  he  was  not  smoking.  He  held 
a  cigar  in  his  fingers,  but  he  had  not  lighted  it, 
and  presently  he  laid  it  on  the  table.  He 
observed  that  I  regarded  this  with  suspicion; 
and,  indeed,  the  thought  had  flashed  on  me  that 

39 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

Mrs.  Randolph  had  but  banished  me  to  the 
library  that  she  might  gain  a  few  minutes  in 
which  to  confer  with  Miss  Hansborough  as  to 
the  next  steps  to  be  taken  in  this  little  comedy- 
drama. 

But  Benson  proceeded  to  enlighten  me. 

"I  have  to  cut  'em  out  while  in  training," 
he  said,  simply. 

He  continued  to  stare  into  the  street. 

"I  rather  like  the  noise  here,"  he  remarked, 
as  he  thus  looked  from  the  window.  "I  mean 
out  in  the  city  —  on  Broadway.  When  you 
breast  the  human  tide  of  Broadway  you  feel 
that  you're  living." 

Then  we  talked,  in  general  terms,  of  the  great 
metropolis  that  lay  at  our  feet  and  all  about 
us,  babbling,  roaring,  growling,  with  its  sky- 
piled  riches  and  its  misery  that  grovels  and 
loves  the  dirt  and  the  dark.  But  not  for  an 
instant  did  I  forget  Mrs.  Randolph  and  my 
strange  position,  nor  cease  to  torment  myself 
as  to  the  outcome  of  the  singular  adventure  into 
which  I  had  been  plunged. 

When  we  had  returned  from  the  library,  and 
I  was  trying  in  my  still  hesitant  mood  to  play 
a  game  of  cribbage  which  Mrs.  Randolph  fairly 
forced  me  into,  while  Benson  and  his  fiancee 
had  their  heads  together  in  another  corner  of 

40 


THE  DISSEMBLER 

the  drawing  room,  making  a  pretence  of  poring 
over  a  book,  but  talking  of  me,  as  I  knew,  Mrs. 
Randolph,  whose  playing  had  been  as  bad  as 
my  own  (which  is  saying  it  could  hardly  have 
been  worse)  looked  up  and  fixed  her  azure  eyes 
on  me. 

"Julian,"  she  said,  bending  forward  and 
speaking  softly,  "you  know  that  I  love  you, 
and  am  wild  with  delight,  but  —  but  it  was 
cruel,  unless  — " 

"Unless  what?"  I  asked  hoarsely,  tumbling 
down  out  of  my  Heaven  like  Icarus  from  his. 

"Unless  you  were  —  were  not  just  right  in 
your  mind,  you  know." 

"Deucedly  so!"  I  stammered. 

"When  you  went  away  before,  you  did  leave 
word,  you  know,  which  we  didn't  get  for  a 
week,  however.  But  that  was  excusable,  be 
cause  of  the  circumstances." 

What  under  the  heavens  was  she  talking 
about  ? 

"You  had  to  go  suddenly,  because  the 
steamer  was  ready;  but  you  gave  John  a  tele 
gram  to  send,  and  it  wasn't  his  fault  that  he 
was  struck  by  a  trolley  car  and  lay  for  a  week 
in  a  hospital  unconscious.  But  you  did  cable 
from  the  other  side,  and  you  wrote." 

"Yes,"  I  said,  non-committally. 

41 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

I  couldn't  think  of  anything  else  to  say.  My 
heart  was  beating  up  into  my  throat.  Can  a 
man  deceive  the  woman  he  loves  ?  I  was  sure 
I  already  loved  her,  and  loved  her  wildly. 

;"I've  feared  your  mind  wasn't  just  right  since 
you  received  that  dreadful  fall  on  the  polo  field." 

She  searched  my  face  with  her  shining  eyes. 

"That's  it!"  I  said,  grasping  at  the  straw. 
"That  must  be  the  trouble." 

"And  you  must  have  fallen  and  injured  your 
self  there  in  Camden." 

"Exactly;  that  explains  it!"  I  said. 

"You  can't  remember  things  ?" 

"No,  I  can't  remember  any  of  the  things  you 
are  telling  me." 

Feeling  that  I  was  a  scoundrel  and  hypocrite, 
I  wondered  what  she  would  think  of  me  if  she 
could  look  into  my  heart;  what  she  must  ulti 
mately  think  of  me  ?  For  this  could  not  go  on 
forever.  If  she  could  have  so  looked,  she  would 
have  seen  my  base  deception,  but  she  would 
have  seen,  also,  my  great  love.  And  I  have 
been  told  by  those  who  profess  to  know  that  to 
a  woman  strong  and  genuine  love  will  excuse 
many  things.  She  would  have  seen  not  only 
that  I  loved  her,  but  that  her  presence  merely 
had  suddenly  become  as  necessary  to  me  as  the 
air  I  breathed.  And  that  because  of  it,  and 

42 


THE  DISSEMBLER 

the  mental  confusion  into  which  my  determina 
tion  to  win  her  had  hurled  me,  I  was  groping 
my  way,  and  did  not  know  whether  to  play  the 
part  of  an  honest  man  or  a  dissembler. 

"You  recall  the  things  that  happened  while 
you  were  gone?"  she  asked,  tremulously. 

I  began  to  wish  heartily  that  I  could  run 
away;  I  could  have  foregone  even  the  delight 
of  her  presence  for  a  little  while  rather  than  be 
forced  to  lie  to  her  so  baldly. 

"No,"  I  answered;  and  I  tried  to  deceive 
myself  into  thinking  that  in  some  circuitous 
manner  I  was  telling  the  truth. 

"You  have  no  memory  of  it  ?" 

There  was  a  sharp,  rising  inflection,  though 
her  voice  was  kept  low  so  that  those  whisperers 
in  the  corner  could  not  hear. 

"None  whatever,"  was  my  conscienceless 
reply. 

I  saw  it  was  necessary  to  say  this,  if  I  was  to 
go  on  playing  my  part;  and  I  saw,  too,  that 
further  admissions  of  like  intent  would  be  need 
ful  before  I  got  very  far. 

"And  the  worst  of  it  is,"  I  continued  desper 
ately,  under  this  spur,  "I  seem  to  have  for 
gotten  the  past  wholly.  I  had  even  forgotten 
you !  And  for  the  life  of  me,  I  don't  recall  any 
thing  about  that  young  fellow  over  there,  who 

43 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

seems  to  know  me,  and  whom  you  call  Jack 
Benson." 

The  thing  was  incredible  to  her,  on  any  other 
theory  than  that  I  had  lost  my  mind  temporarily 
and  was  now  recovering  it  slowly.  And  that 
added  a  touch  of  pity  to  the  look  of  sorrowing 
love  in  her  eyes.  It  paled  also  the  clear  damask 
of  her  cheeks. 

"Try  to  think!"  she  urged. 

For  an  instant  I  did  not  know  what  to  say; 
then  I  plunged  on,  desperately. 

"Was  I  —  ever  in  this  condition  before?"  I 
queried. 

"No." 

"I  hoped  I  had  been,"  I  said,  stammering, 
"for  that  would  account  for  it." 

"I  have  telegraphed  to  Doctor  Thompson. 
Unfortunately,  he  is  out  of  town.  But  he  will 
return  to-morrow,  and  then  he  will  come 
straight  here.  He  is  a  safe  man;  keeps  his 
tongue  still  about  the  affairs  of  other  people, 
and  is  the  finest  specialist  in  the  city." 

The  thought  of  an  interview  with  this  keen- 
eyed  specialist  frightened  me. 

"I  have  denied  it  twice  already,"  I  said. 
"What  if  I  should  say  again  that  I  am  not  your 
husband  ?" 

She  tried  to  laugh  merrily. 

44 


THE  DISSEMBLER 

"As  if  a  man  could  so  declare  to  his  wife!" 

"But  I  doubt  it  myself,"  I  urged.  "Even 
now  I  doubt  it." 

"Julian,"  she  said,  earnestly,  "I  have  been 
studying  mental  diseases.  I  took  it  up  through 
some  charity  work  which  made  me  acquainted 
with  Doctor  Thompson.  And  I  have  continued  it, 
for  no  other  reason  than  to  occupy  my  mind  some 
what,  and  because  the  subject  fascinated  me." 

(A  strange  subject  to  fascinate  so  beautiful, 
so  calm-eyed  a  woman!) 

"So,  if  you  should  tell  me,  and  persist  in  say 
ing  it,  that  you  are  not  my  husband,  I  should 
simply  know  that  you  are  not  mentally  right. 
It  is  a  phase  of  certain  mental  troubles,  this 
denial  of  identity.  But  if  you  don't  deny  it  I 
shall  feel  better,  for  then  I  shall  know  that  you 
are  better." 

"Then  I  won't  deny  it,"  I  answered,  striving 
for  gayety. 

It  seemed  that  I  was  to  have  an  excuse  for 
my  lying.  Every  liar  who  ever  lived  has  sought 
a  valid  excuse  for  his  falsehoods,  even  Ananias. 
I  tried  to  smile.  But,  Heavens,  where  was  this 
to  end  ?  I  was  getting  deeper  in  every  minute. 

Yet  there  was  one  soothing  thought  not  ab 
sent  for  a  moment.  Whatever  came  of  this 
extraordinary  adventure,  my  chances  of  win- 

45 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

ning  this  woman  for  my  wife  were  much  better 
than  if  I  had  never  met  her  at  all;  with  which 
you  will  of  course  agree. 

As  I  sat  there  listening  to  her  voice,  drinking 
from  the  wells  of  her  clear  blue  eyes,  noting  the 
perfect  contour  of  the  now  too  pallid  face,  men 
tally  lashing  myself  at  the  same  time  for  a 
scoundrel,  I  rooted  more  firmly  my  determina 
tion  that  out  of  this,  through  this,  or  in  spite  of 
it,  I  would  yet  win  this  woman  for  my  wife. 
She  should  become  to  me  even  what  she  now 
believed  herself  to  be.  How  this  was  to  be 
accomplished  I  did  not  know  and  could  not 
guess,  but  that  did  not  shake  my  determination. 

When  Jack  Benson  and  Miss  Hansborough 
went  out  of  the  room  presently,  evidently  to 
leave  us  alone  together,  Mrs.  Randolph  drew 
her  chair  against  mine. 

"Julian,"  she  said,  with  a  catching  of  her 
breath,  "whatever  others  thought,  I  cherished 
the  hope  from  the  first  that  you  were  not  dead, 
even  though  —  But  we  will  not  bring  back 
that  horrible  dream!" 

Then  she  was  crying  softly  on  my  shoulder. 
The  overpowering  feeling  of  my  baseness  shook 
me,  as  her  head  rested  thus.  It  crowded  down 
and  killed  my  longing  to  put  my  arms  round  her 
and  comfort  her,  or  make  the  pretence. 


THE  DISSEMBLER 

"The  whole  thing  is  too  bad!"  was  all  I 
could  say. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad  —  glad!"  she  cried. 

I  patted  her  hair  inanely. 

"Don't  cry,"  I  urged. 

"You  must  have  thought  me  heartless,  the 
way  I  acted  when  I  saw  you  ?  I  wanted  to 
scream  and  jump  out  of  the  carriage.  I  don't 
know  how  I  restrained  myself.  But  I  was 
afraid,  Julian  — " 

"Yes?"  I  said,  while  the  blood  sang  hot  in 
my  head,  and  I  cursed  myself,  with  mental 
gnashings  of  my  teeth. 

"I  didn't  know  how  you  would  receive  it," 
she  explained,  "and  that's  why  we  laughed  so, 
and  conducted  ourselves  like  silly  schoolgirls. 
When  you  had  remained  away  so  long  I  was 
afraid,  when  I  saw  you,  of  mental  trouble,  and 
that  you  might  go,  and  we  couldn't  stop  you. 
The  whole  thing  has  been  too  strange  for  words; 
and  — " 

"Entirely  too  strange  for  words!" 

"But  I  knew  you  would  come  back  to  me 
some  time,  if  you  were  living,  Julian.  For  you 
did  love  me.  You  told  me  so  more  than  once." 

Then  she  cried  out  again,  weeping  on  my 
shoulder: 

"Oh,  Julian,  I  am  so  glad  —  glad!  " 

47 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

The  breaking  point  had  come  for  me;  I  could 
not  stand  it  longer. 

"I  feel  strangely  weak  and  bewildered,"  I 
said,  brushing  her  hair  with  my  lips;  "and  if  — 
if  you  are  willing,  I  should  like  to  go  up  to  my 
rooms  for  a  little  while  until  — " 

I  stammered,  and  broke  down. 

"Yes,  yes!"  she  said,  starting  up. 

She  looked  at  me,  her  face  white  with  anxious 
fears,  ready  to  yield  any  point  without  opposi 
tion. 

"It  is  nothing,"  I  urged;  "it  will  pass  off 
directly.  But  — 

Remorse  gripped  me.     I  could  not  go  on. 

"Shall  I  send  a  servant  with  you  ?"  she  asked, 
her  lips  tremulous. 

"No,  no!"  I  ejaculated. 

"Or  your  valet?  Jerome  can  be  called  at 
once.  Let  me  send  Jerome." 

"No,"  I  said,  "no  one;  nothing  of  the  kind!" 

I  put  aside  her  clinging  hands. 

"I'll  see  you  again  in  a  little  while,"  I  prom 
ised,  weakly. 

Then  I  fled,  basely,  cowardly,  fearfully, 
climbing  the  broad  stairs  with  trembling  and 
hurried  feet  to  the  rooms  I  had  been  told  were 
my  own.  I  wanted  to  rush  out  into  the  street, 
but  at  the  moment  lacked  the  necessary  courage 


THE  DISSEMBLER 

of  self-denial,  and  was  still  too  hesitating.  And 
I  doubted  if  that  would  be  proper  treatment  of 
Mrs.  Randolph.  I  knew  I  must  see  her  again. 
Thought  of  excluding  myself  from  her  was 
already  impossible. 

As  I  dropped  weakly  into  a  chair  I  became 
conscious  that  a  heavy  perspiration  had  broken 
out  all  over  my  body.  As  soon  as  I  had 
strength  I  looked  again  at  my  reflection  in  the 
pier  glass,  wondering  how  my  inconsiderate 
flight  would  be  viewed  by  Mrs.  Randolph  — 
my  wife.  My  God,  my  wife! 

I  sank  into  the  chair  again,  quite  unnerved, 
and  passed  a  trembling  hand  over  my  smoothly- 
shaven  face;  I  looked  at  the  clothing  I  was 
wearing  —  his,  her  husband's!  My  misery  and 
self-denunciation  racked  me  until  I  groaned. 
The  thing  I  had  entered  into  with  all  the 
abandon  of  a  comic  opera  character  had  re 
solved  itself  into  this ! 

The  comic  opera  villain  extricates  himself 
easily  from  the  direst  situations,  to  the  great 
amusement  of  the  spectators;  or  fails  inglori- 
ously,  equally  to  the  amusement  of  the  spec 
tators.  But  what  was  I  to  do  ?  This  was  not 
comic  opera. 

I  began  to  walk  the  room,  furiously,  fever 
ishly.  Once  I  stopped  before  the  glass,  and 

49 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

was  sensible  of  my  ridiculous  comic  opera  atti 
tude  —  hands  thrust  deep  into  my  pockets, 
shoulders  drawn  together,  head  down  in  collar 
like  a  tortoise  trying  to  retreat  into  its  own 
shell,  face  ghastly  white,  with  hectic  flushes,  as 
if  I  were  indeed  a  stage  villain  with  paint  and 
powder  touches  applied,  ready  to  stand  forth  in 
the  glare  of  the  lime-light  and  "still  pursue 
her." 

Seeing  my  ridiculous  pose  I  dropped  into  the 
chair  again,  to  think  over  the  situation  as  calmly 
as  I  could.  And  I  demanded  of  myself  with 
much  vehemence  why  I  did  not  at  once  leave 
the  house  —  in  an  honorable  way,  if  I  had  any 
honor  left,  or  fly  dishonorably,  if  I  utterly  lacked 
manliness. 


5° 


BACK   FROM   THE    DEAD 

THOSE  twins,  Uncertainty  and  Hesitation, 
born  in  a  flame  of  sudden  love  and  sudden 
longing,  had  unnerved  me  and  made  me 
less  than  a  man.  When  I  thought  of  what  Mrs. 
Randolph  had  already  become  to  me  I  cowered 
before  the  fear  of  her  scorn  and  hate.  Her  arms 
had  been  round  my  neck  —  I  seemed  still  to  feel 
their  warm  pressure;  and  her  kisses  still  burned 
hot  on  my  face.  Could  I  renounce  her  and  go  my 
lonely  way  ?  Could  I  so  much  as  run  the  risk 
of  losing  her  ? 

I  knew  now  that  the  light  of  her  eyes,  change 
able  as  the  sky,  deep,  unfathomable,  haunting 
as  the  sea,  had  lured  me  from  the  first,  with  a 
strength  stronger  than  the  mere  spirit  of  adven 
ture.  The  romance,  the  novelty,  the  insistence 
whose  imperious  certainty  melted  into  tears,  the 
questioning  mystery  which  stirred  the  inquisi 
tive  instinct  —  all  had  been  there;  but  the  real 
lure  lay  in  those  azure  eyes,  in  the  sweet  bright 
ness  and  earnestness  of  her  face,  in  the  tremu 
lous  music  of  her  voice. 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

The  joys  we  have  not  known  we  do  not  con 
sciously  miss.  If  Helen's  beauty  had  never 
ravished  the  sight  of  Paris  he  would  have  turned 
to  some  other  charmer,  or  gone  his  way  un 
moved  by  fascinations  feminine,  and  still  would 
have  enjoyed  life.  But  after  he  had  seen  her! 
I  had  seen  my  Helen. 

How  does  one  know  when  he  has  met  Her  ? 
How  does  the  Princess  know  the  disguised 
Prince  when  he  walks  out  of  the  scented  wood 
of  the  fairy  tale,  the  sunlight  on  his  yellow  hair  ? 
She  knows  him,  even  though  he  wears  hodden 
gray  and  performs  the  tasks  of  a  menial.  And 
every  little  bird  nest-building  in  the  branches, 
or  brooding  warm  blue  eggs  in  which  life  is 
stirring,  knows  that  he  is  the  Prince,  and  re 
joices.  In  the  same  way  I  knew.  Her  face 
had  haunted  my  dreams;  and  Her  voice  had 
long  sounded  in  my  ears,  even  as  the  voice  of 
the  ocean  murmurs  forever  in  the  pink  ear  of  the 
sea-shell  wherever  that  shell  may  be. 

You  have  been  in  love.  Yet  perhaps  you 
never  loved  as  already  I  loved  Her.  For  the 
love  that  comes  as  the  lightning's  flash  may  be 
even  stronger  than  the  love  that  grows  through 
a  season  and  matures  slowly  until  it  exhales  its 
full  fragrance  like  a  rose.  Love  is  the  parent  of 
Joy.  Yet  it  was  not  Joy  I  felt,  but  Fear  — 

52 


BACK  FROM  THE  DEAD 

Fear  clutched  me,  lest  having  found  Her  I 
should  by  some  stumble  lose  Her. 

Sent  by  Mrs.  Randolph,  Jerome  came  to  me 
soon,  pushing  his  white,  placid,  English  face 
into  the  room  with  cautious  sympathy. 

"Is  there  something  I  can  do  for  you,  sir?" 
he  said,  respectfully. 

He  did  not  look  at  me  directly,  but  glanced 
about  furtively,  and  picked  from  the  floor  the 
silk-lined  manicure  case  I  had  knocked  down, 
restoring  it  with  a  quiet  air  to  its  place. 

"Nothing,  I  believe,  Jerome,"  I  answered, 
mastering  my  emotions  and  my  voice  as  well  as 
I  could.  "I  shall  go  to  bed  soon,  and  I  shall 
not  need  your  help  in  retiring." 

He  still  glanced  about  the  rooms,  and  picked 
an  imaginary  thread  of  cloth  from  a  chair  seat 
in  lieu  of  something  else  with  which  to  occupy 
his  hands. 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  said,  helplessly;  and  then  he 
retreated,  as  silent-footed  as  when  he  came. 

As  soon  as  he  was  gone  my  tempestuous  un 
rest  set  me  to  walking  again.  I  knew  that  Mrs. 
Randolph  was  awaiting  my  return  to  her,  but  I 
could  not  go.  I  hoped  she  would  credit  my 
action  to  the  eccentricity  which  I  believed  had 
been  part  and  parcel  of  the  make-up  of  Julian 
Randolph.  Randolph's  actions  were,  it  seemed, 

53 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

likely  to  belong  to  the  inscrutable  domains  of 
Topsy-Turvy  Land,  where  Guesswork  sits  en 
throned  on  a  column  of  big  question  marks  and 
holds  out  to  all  who  approach  him  the  symbol 
of  the  sphinx  on  the  end  of  his  sceptre.  I  was 
glad  to  think  this  was  so. 

I  was  horrified,  as  I  looked  into  the  pier 
glass,  for  my  face  was  so  white  it  was  corpse- 
like.  I  was  like  some  Flagellant,  lashing  him 
self  with  cactus  thongs  while  clinging  to  the  sin 
that  caused  the  self-scourging.  I  spat  scorn  at 
that  white  face  in  the  mirror  and  hated  myself 
sincerely. 

At  intervals  I  had  an  accession  of  courage, 
and  then  I  was  on  the  point  of  returning  to 
Mrs.  Randolph  and  declaring  to  her  again  with 
passionate  earnestness  the  whole  truth,  even 
though  it  turned  me  away  from  her  forever. 
But  this  courage  was  never  strong  enough  to 
push  me  through  the  door  and  down  the  broad 
stairs  into  her  presence. 

Not  having  determined  to  leave  the  house,  by 
and  by  I  removed  my  shoes,  so  that  in  my  restless 
walking  I  might  disturb  no  one — might  not  dis 
turb  Her,  nor  let  her  know  of  my  restlessness.  I 
even  began  to  hope  she  would  think  I  had  retired 
and  fallen  asleep;  and  as  the  time  passed  I  tried 
to  think  that  she  had  given  over  waiting  for  me. 

54 


BACK  FROM  THE  DEAD 

But  I  was  undeceived.  A  soft  rap  sounded 
on  my  door  and  a  low  voice  called : 

"Julian!" 

It  was  Mrs.  Randolph. 

"Yes?"  I  answered,  and  my  voice  trembled. 

"I  have  been  anxious  about  you.  You  are 
quite  well,  are  you  ?" 

"Thank  you  for  inquiring,"  I  answered. 
"Yes,  I  am  quite  well." 

She  stood  a  moment  in  hesitation,  and  then  I 
heard  her  turn  to  go  away. 

"Good  night!"  she  called. 

"Good  night!"  I  cried.  "And  God  bless 
you!" 

I  heard  her  retreat  softly,  while  I  sat  staring 
at  the  door  as  if  I  would  pierce  its  wooden 
barrier  with  my  eyes. 

"You  scoundrel!"  I  whispered,  facing  my 
pallid  reflection  in  the  pier  glass  when  she  was 
gone.  "You  double-dyed  villain!  You  mere 
image  and  outward  semblance  of  a  man,  with 
out  a  man's  soul  or  honor!  You  are  a 
coward!" 

Yet  cowardice  and  hesitation  still  held  me. 
I  knew  I  could  not  get  out  of  the  house  without 
Mrs.  Randolph  knowing  it  —  I  was  not  sure 
that  I  really  wanted  to  get  out — and  the  hours 
slipped  away. 

55 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

Twice  I  stole  forth  into  the  long  hall,  shoes 
in  hand.  But  I  fancied  I  saw  a  servant  watch 
ing  me,  and  I  went  no  farther.  If  I  could  have 

O  ' 

gained  the  street  then  unobserved,  I  believe  I 
should  have  fled,  to  lose  myself  somewhere, 
never  to  return.  Yet  in  the  shock  of  seeing  the 
servant  I  was  glad  —  glad  I  had  been  seen  and 
stopped. 

Going  at  times  to  the  window,  I  looked  out 
on  the  gleaming  lights  of  the  city,  when  the 
house  was  quiet,  lights  that,  on  the  cross  streets, 
ran  on  in  twin  lines  of  brilliant  flashes.  And 
the  roar  of  the  city  came  to  me  —  that  intermi 
nable  roar.  Nearer  were  the  pattering  of  hoofs 
and  the  subdued  roll  of  rubber-tired  vehi 
cles;  and  farther  away  the  city's  wild  beast 
grumble,  as  if  the  very  paving  blocks  knew  they 
were  being  hammered  for  bread  and  blood. 
And  so  I  continued  to  walk  the  floor  —  con 
tinued  to  hesitate  and  delay,  wearing  out  the 
night  and  myself. 

This  wild-beast  grumble  became  less  as  the 
night  advanced.  But  the  lights  continued  to 
flash,  until  Day  came,  and  looked  in  on  a  pallid 
man  staring  at  the  pallid  sky.  But  in  the 
breaking  dawn  there  was  one  brief  period  of 
ineffable  beauty,  when  the  old  moon  hung  low, 
just  over  the  house-tops,  with  pale-flame  clouds 

56 


BACK  FROM  THE  DEAD 

cradling  it,  and  the  sky  above  blushing  into 
delicate  shell  pink.  Even  my  troubled  mind 
was  forced  to  note  the  beauty  of  that  scene. 

In  my  studies  of  the  situation,  in  my  backing 
and  filling,  there  came  to  me  now  and  then  the 
thought,  almost  the  conviction,  that  I  was  not 
so  much  to  blame  —  was  not  so  much  the  de 
ceiver  as  the  deceived.  At  such  times  I  still 
wondered  with  vague  apprehensions  if  it  could 
be  possible  that  Mrs.  Randolph  was  making 
sport  of  me.  That  involved  the  further  thought, 
disturbing  to  my  vanity,  that  Miss  Hansborough 
and  Jack  Benson,  and  even  the  English  valet, 
were  all  using  me  as  the  butt  of  a  joke.  Per 
haps  in  the  morning  I  should  be  kicked  from 
the  house  in  disgrace!  Well,  I  knew  it  would 
serve  me  right.  I  deserved  that,  and  far  more. 

With  the  gray  dawn  breaking,  I  slipped  down 
to  the  street  door.  I  wore  my  shoes  this  time, 
and  almost  meant  to  leave  the  house.  Though 
servants  were  stirring,  I  was  sure  I  could  get 
out,  and  be  far  enough  away  before  Mrs.  Ran 
dolph's  rising  hour. 

I  had  all  the  shrinking  of  a  timid  burglar  as  I 
stole  thus  through  the  halls  and  down  the  stair 
way,  and  when  I  beheld  a  servant  by  the  door 
I  wanted  to  turn  about  in  flight.  I  saw,  how 
ever,  that  if  I  really  wished  to  get  out  of  the 

57 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

house  now  was  the  time.  As  I  approached 
this  servant  he  opened  the  street  door,  and 
when  he  drew  back  I  saw  that  he  had  a  morn 
ing  paper.  A  staring  head-line  caught  my  eye 
and  changed  my  purpose  instantly. 

"I  will  take  the  paper,"  I  said,  as  boldly  as  I 
could. 

He  relinquished  it  to  me,  reluctantly  I 
thought,  and  the  next  moment  I  was  running 
through  the  hall  and  climbing  the  stairs,  the 
paper  clutched  tightly. 

On  the  upper  landing  I  glanced  at  it  again; 
then  continued  on  into  my  rooms  in  most  undig 
nified  haste.  With  shaking  fingers  I  closed  and 
locked  the  door,  and  sinking  breathlessly  into 
a  chair  I  stared  at  those  head-lines ;  then  began 
to  read  with  feverish  intentness  what  was  be 
neath  them. 


THE    BOSOM   OF    HIS    FAMILY 

Three  columns  wide  and  a  fourth  of  a  column 
in  length,  those  head-lines,  with  others,  fairly 
hurled  themselves  at  me.  They  told  the  story; 

58 


BACK  FROM  THE  DEAD 

yet  more  than  two  columns  of  astounding  and 
sensational  comment  followed. 

As  I  read  I  sat  dumbfounded.  This  put  a 
new  face  on  the  matter.  I  had  not  thought  of 
the  ubiquitous  newspaper  reporter  with  his 
insatiable  thirst  for  sensation.  Some  one  had 
witnessed  my  meeting  with  Mrs.  Randolph  and 
her  sister,  and  some  gossipy  house  servant  had 
talked.  And  here  it  was,  spread  to  the  light  of 
day.  Added  to  the  shock  was  the  pity  I  felt 
for  Mrs.  Randolph.  This  was  cruel. 

The  valet  came  before  I  had  decided  my 
course  of  action.  I  tucked  the  offending  news 
paper  out  of  sight,  and  admitted  him. 

"You  are  up  early,  sir,"  he  said. 

The  expression  of  his  face  was  block-like. 
It  was  hard  for  me  to  believe  that  this  man 
possessed  human  emotions. 

"I  did  not  sleep  well,"  I  explained. 

That  I  had  not  slept  at  all  he  must  have 
known,  for  I  still  had  on  the  clothing  worn  the 
previous  evening. 

"Sorry,  sir,"  was  his  comment.  "Something 
I  can  do  for  you,  sir  ?" 

He  pulled  open  a  drawer  and  began  to  take 
the  razor  from  its  case  of  satin  and  silver.  I 
stayed  him  with  a  gesture. 

"  I  don't  think  I  will  be  shaved  this  morning." 

59 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

He  put  the  razor  away  and  closed  the  drawer. 

"Jerome,"  I  said,  "just  lay  out  the  clothing 
I'm  to  wear  to-day,  and  then  you  may  be 
excused." 

He  began  to  obey,  silently.  He  was  a  wise 
servant  and  showed  nothing  of  the  surprise  he 
probably  felt.  I  wanted  to  be  rid  of  him,  to  be 
alone,  that  I  might  re-read  that  newspaper  re 
port  without  having  my  face  read  at  the  same 
time,  and  give  myself  further  thought  on  this 
unique  and  puzzling  situation.  I  felt  that  it 
was  needful  now  for  me  to  lay  my  course  as 
carefully  as  a  sea  captain  who  is  navigating  a 
dangerous  sea  in  a  fog.  Only  this  was  wholly 
an  unchartered  sea  to  me.  Steer  as  carefully  as 
I  might,  I  was  likely  to  go  on  the  rocks  at  any 
time. 

Yet  curiosity  got  the  better  of  me. 

"Jerome,"  I  said,  as  he  turned  to  go,  "I  sup 
pose  my  disappearance  —  my  death  as  it  was 
thought  to  be  —  created  wide  comment  at  the 
time  —  in  all  the  papers?" 

"Very  true,  sir,"  he  answered,  turning  to  look 
at  me. 

"No  reporters  have  tried  to  interview  you,  or 
the  other  servants,  since  my  —  my  return?" 

For  the  first  time  his  face  showed  color  and 
animation  —  or  it  may  have  been  indignation. 

60 


BACK  FROM  THE  DEAD 

"They  have  even  tried  to  sneak  into  the 
house,  sir,  if  a  door  was  left  open  a  moment! 
A  half-dozen  are  outside  now." 

In  imagination  I  saw  them  then,  an  army  of 
them,  trying  to  storm  the  steps  from  the  avenue. 

"Is  Mrs.  Randolph  aware  of  this  ?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  yes,  sir;  she  gave  orders  that  none  was 
to  be  admitted,  and  that  none  of  the  servants 
was  to  talk.  Twice  I  have  myself  been  offered 
bribes  to  tell  what  I  knew.  And  they  have 
tried  many  times  —  very  many  times  —  to  see 
you  and  Mrs.  Randolph." 

"Thank  you;  that  is  all,  Jerome,"  I  said 
weakly,  dismissing  him. 

I  was  indeed  beleaguered,  and  had  not  known 
it.  All  knowledge  of  it  had  been  kept  from  me 
carefully  by  Mrs.  Randolph.  She  had  held  the 
reportorial  mob  at  bay  alone.  But  out  there 
the  yellow  flags  of  the  sensational  press  were 
flying,  and  mustered  under  them  were  men  who 
never  acknowledged  defeat.  I  did  not  doubt 
that  sooner  or  later  they  would  accomplish  their 
purpose  and  reach  me  even  over  the  barriers 
erected  by  Mrs.  Randolph's  devotion  to  the  man 
she  believed  to  be  her  husband. 

As  I  changed  my  clothing  I  tried  to  think  to 
some  satisfactory  conclusion,  and  realized  that 
even  had  I  fled  in  the  night  from  the  house  I 

61 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

should  have  been  pursued  by  the  reporters. 
I  could  hardly  have  escaped  their  vigilant  es 
pionage.  The  sensation  in  which  they  were 
revelling  would  have  yellowed  to  the  deepest 
saffron.  Their  papers  would  have  become  mere 
screaming  head-lines ;  and  if  I  had  sought  to 
hide,  or  fly,  the  reportorial  hounds  would  have 
been  in  full  cry,  voicing  their  clamor  to  the  ear 
of  the  startled  night.  I  was  glad  now  I  had  not 
tried  to  leave  the  house. 

But  what  was  I  to  do  ?     They  would  find  me 
out;  they  would  expose  me! 


62 


VI 

WHEN   THE    FATES    WERE    CRAZY 

WHILE  I  still  considered,  striving  to  reach 
some  satisfactory  decision,  there  was  a 
gentle  tap  on  the  door.  When  I  opened 
it  I  beheld  Mrs.  Randolph. 

Her  attire  was  brighter  than  it  had  been  be 
fore.  I  cannot  name  a  single  detail  of  that 
change,  but  it  was  as  if  a  rather  sober,  dark- 
hued  bird  had  put  gold  and  silver  and  color  of 
flame  and  rainbow  on  its  wings,  or  as  when  a 
graceful,  burgeoning  tree  crowns  itself  with 
leaves  and  flowers  under  the  influence  of  the 
warm  life  of  spring  stirring  in  its  heart.  Her 
beauty  enthralled  me.  Yet  in  it  there  was 
pathos,  and  the  traces  of  grief  and  tears  mingled 
with  joy. 

"May  I  come  in?"  she  said,  with  attempted 
brightness. 

"Yes,  certainly,"  I  answered;  "delighted  to 
see  you!  I  have  been  thinking  of  you." 

"Jerome  hasn't  been  to  attend  on  you  ?" 

She  looked  at  me  anxiously  as  she  came  in, 
and  I  thought  she  smiled  a  little  wearily,  though 

63 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

she  was  trying  to  seem  cheerful,  and  even 
happy. 

"I  was  anxious  about  you,  through  the  night. 
You  fairly  fled  from  me,  you  know.  I'm  afraid 
you  didn't  sleep  well,  for  we  heard  you  walk 
ing  about.  Jack  went  away  shortly  after  you 
started  to  your  rooms,  and  I  spent  the  night 
with  Margaret.  You  won't  mind  if  I  confess 
that  I  once  tiptoed  to  your  door  here  ?  —  I 
was  so  anxious!" 

That  charm  indefinably  feminine,  which 
makes  strong  men  fall  prostrate  at  the  feet  of 
women,  surrounded  her  like  an  atmosphere,  or 
the  perfume  of  flowers.  Sometimes  women  who 
are  not  beautiful  have  it.  She  possessed  it,  and 
was  beautiful. 

The  desire  to  take  her  in  my  arms  I  repressed 
with  difficulty;  I  felt  that  she  would  not  object, 
would  even  be  glad,  and  would  have  nestled  her 
bright  head  against  my  breast  in  happiness. 
She  was  longing  for  the  clasp  of  my  arms  (the 
arms  of  the  man  she  supposed  to  be  her  hus 
band)  even  as  I  was  longing  to  draw  her  to  me 
in  a  close  embrace  and  tell  her  how  I  loved  her, 
and  I  knew  it.  Yet  I  took  that  wild  desire 
by  the  throat  and  strangled  it  as  if  it  were  a 
wolf. 

As  I  sank  into  a  chair,  unnerved  and  un- 

64 


WHEN  THE  FATES  WERE  CRAZY 

manned,  she  drew  up  another,  and  sat  down 
by  me,  her  hand  on  my  arm. 

"Julian," — her  low  voice  trembled, — "don't 
think,  dear,  that  I  want  to  say  anything  to 
trouble  you!" 

"Oh,  I  know  you  do  not!"  I  answered.  "I 
must  seem  like  a  dog  to  you  —  the  veriest  cur." 

She  gasped  as  with  pain,  and  the  clutch  of 
her  hand  tightened. 

"Not  at  all,"  she  insisted  gently.  "I  know 
that  —  that  you  are  not  —  not  very  well.  It 
was  for  that  reason  I  sent  for  our  old  physician. 
You  recall  when  I  became  acquainted  with  him 
in  that  charity  work,  don't  you  ?  And  you 
liked  him." 

A  clammy  sweat  came  out  on  my  forehead. 

"He  was  away  yesterday,  you  remember  I 
told  you.  You  will  receive  him?" 

"If  I  must,"  I  said,  desperately. 

I  glanced  round,  like  a  hunted  rat  searching 
for  a  hole. 

"I  have  given  orders  that  no  one  is  to  disturb 
you,"  she  went  on,  calmly,  "and  that  no  one  is 
to  be  admitted.  You  are  nervous  —  very  ner 
vous.  Doctor  Thompson  will  be  able  to  give 
you  something  that  will  help  you." 

I  looked  at  her  again,  that  flood  of  passionate 
longing  surging  within  me  like  a  rising  tide. 

65 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

Simple  faith  lighted  her  eyes;  and  here  was  I 
again  playing  the  hypocrite  in  the  most  monu 
mental  fashion. 

"We  haven't  talked  over  the  matter  thor 
oughly,"  I  said. 

I  was  mean  enough  to  wish  to  know  more  of 
Julian  Randolph  and  his  past,  that  I  might 
have  better  footing  for  my  uncertain  steps. 
Though  I  had  not  decided  to  continue  my 
despicable  role,  I  was  still  unable  to  decide  not 
to  continue  it,  and  had  a  feeling  that  I  might  be 
driven  on  in  my  present  course;  for  I  could  not 
think  of  leaving  this  woman,  now  that  I  knew 
her,  even  though  I  might  loathe  myself  for 
remaining.  I  felt  that  to  leave  her  was  to  lose 
her.  In  addition,  if  I  was  to  meet  this  doctor, 
it  was  desirable  for  me  to  learn  all  I  could, 
that  I  might  do  it  successfully.  I  should  be  a 
good  actor  indeed,  and  should  need  all  possible 
self-possession  and  knowledge,  if  I  was  to  de 
ceive  him. 

"  Julian,  dear,"  she  was  saying,  even  as  these 
thoughts  went  through  my  harassed  mind, 
"have  you  quite  forgotten  all  the  circumstances 
of  your  going  away?" 

I  hesitated.     Should  I  lie  to  her  ? 

"If  the  things  you  tell  me  are  true,  I  have 
forgotten  everything,"  I  replied  brazenly. 

66 


WHEN  THE  FATES  WERE  CRAZY 

"Poor  boy!"  she  said,  and  stroked  my  arm. 

"I  had  a  talk  with  Jerome,  and  he  told  me 
something,"  I  said,  wondering  how  I  was  to 
justify  my  present  attitude  and  square  myself 
eventually.  "This  doctor  knows  me  well,  you 
say?" 

"Thoroughly." 

"Suppose  he  declares  that  —  ?"  I  stopped, 
hesitating. 

"Yes?" 

"Suppose  he  declares  that  there  is  no  loss  of 
memory  ? " 

"There  is  no  danger  of  that,  dear." 

I  made  another  effort  to  be  honest  with  myself 
and  her. 

"But  I  have  told  you,"  I  urged,  "that  I  was 
astounded  when  you  claimed  me  as  your  hus 
band.  My  memory  of  events  is  not  the  same 
as  yours.  I  do  not  recall  this  house,  nor  the 
places  of  which  Jerome  told  me,  nor  even 
Jerome  himself.  I  must  be  honest  with  you;  I 
am  not  the  man  you  think  I  am  —  I  am  not 
your  husband!" 

Her  arms  were  round  my  neck  instantly  and 
she  was  sobbing.  I  tried  to  release  myself,  but 
her  arms  clung  tight  as  tendrils. 

"No  —  no!"  she  cried,  sobbing  more  vio 
lently.  "Now,  be  a  good  boy,  Julian!  I  know, 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

of  course,  that  you  would  not  have  remained 
away  from  me  if  you  had  been  just  yourself. 
So  this  does  not  disturb  me."  (My  God  —  did 
not  disturb  her;  and  she  was  weeping  like 
Niobe!)  "Doctor  Thompson  will  be  able  to 
help  you.  I  have  the  utmost  faith  in  him." 

I  saw  I  could  not  leave  her  at  once.  And 
how  I  dreaded  that  doctor!  How  weak  I  was, 
too,  to  let  her  cling  to  me  in  that  manner!  I 
cursed  my  unmanliness. 

Before  she  could  say  more,  or  I  could  think 
of  anything  other  than  my  combined  happiness 
and  misery,  quick  steps  were  heard  beyond  the 
door,  and  then  a  light  knock. 

She  rose  hurriedly  and  opened  the  door.  A 
servant  stood  there. 

"Doctor  Thompson  has  arrived,"  was  the 
announcement. 

Mrs.  Randolph  slipped  from  the  room  and 
ran  down  the  stairs.  Then  I  heard  her  talking 
with  him  in  the  hall  below.  She  conducted  him 
to  my  rooms,  but  did  not  enter.  Yet  I  felt  that 
she  was  near. 

I  eyed  him  closely  as  he  came  in.  He  was  a 
gray-bearded,  gray-eyed  man,  his  hair  close- 
cropped,  his  beard  of  the  Vandyke  cut,  his 
clothing  gray  and  loose-fitting,  and  he  held  in 
his  left  hand  the  gray  glove  he  had  removed 

68 


WHEN  THE  FATES  WERE  CRAZY 

when  he  met  her.  He  extended  the  ungloved 
hand  to  me  as  I  rose,  and  the  keen  eyes  searched 
my  face,  while  I  flushed  with  embarrassment. 
There  was  a  piercing  quality  in  those  eyes  which 
made  me  think  of  probes.  I  was  sure  he  would 
penetrate  my  mask  at  once.  Hence  his  greet 
ing  puzzled  me;  for  I  had  expected  him  to 
retreat,  or  perhaps  stand  firm  and  denounce 
me.  He  did  neither, 

"Glad  to  see  you,  Mr.  Randolph,"  he  said, 
in  the  friendliest  manner,  sinking  into  a  chair 
near  the  one  I  had  dropped  back  into,  while  he 
still  probed  me  with  those  keen  eyes  which 
needed  no  aid  of  glasses. 

Then  he  began  to  talk,  laughing  and  smiling, 
though  I  still  felt  that  he  was  searching  me 
through  and  through.  I  had  a  sort  of  angry 
irritation,  and  was  resentful,  and  I  held  myself 
in  reserve,  determined  not  to  trip  myself  up. 
Having  lost  the  will  to  confess  my  imposture,  I 
began  to  pit  my  intellect  and  keenness  against 
his  professional  knowledge  and  acumen.  And 
a  certain  feeling  of  pride  came  to  aid  me.  It 
seemed  to  me  it  would  be  a  rare  triumph  if  I 
could  deceive  this  sharp-eyed  physician.  But 
apparently  he  was  already  deceived.  Mrs. 
Randolph  had  deceived  him,  so  thoroughly  was 
she  deceived  herself. 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

I  learned  that  he  had  driven  down  in  his 
phaeton,  instead  of  coming  in  an  automobile  or 
public  conveyance,  for  he  began  to  talk  of  his 
horse,  with  all  the  pride  of  a  professional  jockey. 
It  was  a  wonderful  horse;  young,  strong,  beau 
tiful  as  one  of  the  steeds  of  Achilles,  and  he 
gloried  in  his  ability  to  manage  it  in  the  crowded 
city  streets.  I  quite  forgot  myself  in  his  enthu 
siasm  over  that  horse. 

"He  will  probably  injure  you  some  day,"  I 
suggested. 

He  blew  out  his  thin  cheeks,  setting  the  stiff 
gray  beard  on  edge,  while  his  keen  eyes  snapped 
with  delight. 

"Not  the  least  danger  in  the  world!" 

He  made  the  assertion  in  the  confident  tone 
of  a  man  who  knows  his  power. 

Having  exhausted  the  merits  of  that  marvel 
lous  horse,  and  having  made  me  forget  myself, 
he  asked  suddenly: 

"What  are  your  plans  now  ?" 

My  heart  jumped  and  my  cheeks  flamed, 
while  I  tried  hard  to  adjust  quickly  the  steel 
armor  of  my  defence. 

"I  have  none,"  I  answered  weakly. 

He  took  my  hand  and  pressed  his  long  fore 
finger  on  my  pulse,  while  my  heart  was  swinging 
like  a  trip-hammer. 

70 


WHEN  THE  FATES  WERE  CRAZY 

"You  will  be  wise  to  take  a  little  sea  trip," 
he  advised.  "Run  up  to  Newport  or  Boston, 
or  even  farther.  The  noise  of  the  city  doesn't 
trouble  you  ?" 

"Not  in  the  least,"  was  my  truthful  answer. 

"A  little  sea  trip,  after  a  few  days,  will  be  a 
good  thing;  and  your  wife  will  enjoy  it." 

A  sudden  scorn  of  him  must  have  flashed  in 
my  eyes.  Yet  he  laughed  quietly,  kept  his 
finger  on  my  pulse,  and  looked  again  at  the  dial 
of  his  little,  open-face  watch.  His  manner, 
and  the  ticking  of  the  watch,  with  the  knowl 
edge  that  my  pulse  was  jumping  feverishly, 
annoyed  me. 

He  released  my  hand  and  put  the  watch  back 
into  his  pocket. 

"I  will  write  a  prescription  and  give  it  to 
Mrs.  Randolph.  And  quite  unprofessionally,  I 
wish  to  say  that  I'm  very  glad  to  know  that  you 
are  doing  so  well.  Perhaps  in  a  day  or  two  you 
will  like  to  drop  round  to  my  office  ?" 

He  took  out  his  professional  card  undemon- 
stratively  and  laid  it  on  the  table.  And  he 
wrung  my  hand  again,  as  he  got  ready  to  go. 

I  heard  him  speak  to  Mrs.  Randolph  in  the 
lower  hall,  and  heard  them  talking  in  low  tones 
as  they  walked  away  together. 

I  dropped  back  into  my  chair  and  wanted  to 

71 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

laugh,  and  condemned  myself  for  this  feeling 
of  levity.  Yet  why  should  I  not  laugh  ?  I  had 
been  given  to  understand  that  this  man  stood 
at  the  head  of  his  profession!  And  he  was,  or 
seemed  to  be,  deceived  as  completely  as  Mrs. 
Randolph  herself.  Had  comedy  ever  such  a 
situation  ?  The  Fates  had  gone  crazy;  and  the 
Oracles  were  dumb,  or  drunk. 


VII 

IN    THE   FOOL'S    PARADISE 

WE  breakfasted  in  the  bright,  well-lighted 
dining  room,  where  the  clatter  of  hoofs 
and  the  roll  of  wheels  reached  us  but 
faintly.  By  day  the  dining  room  had  lost  some 
thing  of  the  splendor  lent  by  soft,  lily -bulbed 
lights.  It  was  a  pleasant  room,  and  quiet. 
Carnations  and  blush  roses  sent  forth  their 
fragrance;  and  Mrs.  Randolph  had  placed  a 
carnation  in  her  hair.  But  not  a  flower  of  them 
all  could  match  in  loveliness  the  woman  who 
called  me  her  husband. 

Apparently  determined  to  be  bright  and 
charming,  or  because  she  really  could  not  be 
otherwise,  she  had  put  aside  the  tears  that  had 
distressed  me,  and  joyous  welcome  tripped  from 
her  tongue. 

Miss  Hansborough,  in  white,  was  almost  as 
charming,  and  more  girlish  and  piquant.  No 
remote  reference  was  made  by  either  to  the 
thing  that  I  knew  was  uppermost  in  the  heart 
of  each.  It  was  as  if  I  belonged  there,  and  had 
always  been  there.  The  situation  was  one  of 

73 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

such  ease  that  when  we  began  to  talk  it  was  as 
good  comrades  and  friends,  while  the  silent  ser 
vants  came  and  went,  and  the  variable  "clock- 
clock"  of  hoofs  reached  us  from  apparently  far 
away. 

All  the  while  I  pondered  my  singular  position 
and  wondered  as  to  its  outcome.  And  yielding 
to  the  weakness  that  had  conquered  me  I  tried 
to  give  myself  up  to  the  enjoyment  of  what  I  was 
sure  was  but  a  Fool's  Paradise.  But  even  a 
short  hour  of  this  was  worth  much.  I  was 
beginning  to  ask  myself,  too,  why  I  should  not 
continue  to  dwell  in  Eden,  since  the  Angel  of 
the  Flaming  Sword  had  fallen  asleep,  and,  no 
longer  guarding  the  entrance,  had  let  me  in. 

Here  was  I,  who  yesterday  was  but  a  friend 
less  stranger  trying  to  be  gay  in  gay  Babylon, 
occupying  now  this  home  of  wealth  and  refine 
ment  as  its  recognized  head,  dowered  not  only 
with  the  friendship,  but  with  the  love  —  aye, 
the  worship!  —  of  its  charming  mistress.  Had 
Romance  ever  taken  a  more  erratic  gait!  Not 
only  were  the  Fates  crazy  and  the  Oracles 
drunk,  but  Fortunatus  and  Aladdin  lived  again 
and  were  turning  the  world  upside  down  for  me. 

Wealth  hitherto  unknown  would  be  mine; 
and  this  woman,  this  angel  of  the  sky-bright 
eyes  and  warm,  brown  hair,  would  be  mine, 

74 


IN  THE  FOOL'S   PARADISE 

also,  if  I  yielded  to  the  temptation  that  beset 
me.  Possible  wealth  had  no  seductive  power 
compared  with  that.  With  her  I  could  abide 
happy  anywhere. 

A  Book  of  Verses  underneath  the  Bough, 
A  Jug  of  Wine,  a  Loaf  of  Bread  —  and  Thou 

Beside  me  singing  in  the  Wilderness  — 
Oh,  Wilderness  were  Paradise  enow! 

Thus  temptation,  with  more  than  the  strength 
of  Samson,  tugged  at  the  Gaza  gates  of  my 
soul,  threatening  to  carry  them  away. 

After  a  time  Miss  Hansborough  began  to  talk 
again  of  the  Harvard-Yale  game. 

"It's  going  to  be  a  great  game,  Jack  says," 
she  declared  with  fine  enthusiasm.  "I  wouldn't 
miss  it  for  anything." 

She  picked  out  the  reddest  of  the  roses  — 
three  of  them  —  and  pinned  one  on  my  coat, 
another  on  Mrs.  Randolph's  dress,  and  adorned 
herself  with  the  third. 

"Rah,  rah,  rah, —  Harvard!" 

She  laughed  merrily,  and  for  the  moment  I 
was  really  quite  happy  and  enthusiastic. 

"When  is  this  great  game  to  be  ?"  I  asked. 

"The  twenty-second  of  this  month  —  June; 
June,  the  Month  of  Roses !  I  shall  get  a  bunch 

75 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

of  the  biggest  and  reddest  roses  I  can  find  to 
wear,  and  we'll  simply  fill  the  auto  with  them, 
and  with  the  Harvard  colors." 

"And  that  isn't  so  very  far  away,  either,"  said 
Mrs.  Randolph.  "If  you're  willing,  Julian" 
(she  fixed  her  eyes  on  me),  "we'll  go  to  New 
port  in  the  Idler  for  a  few  days,  and  then  we 
can  take  the  train  for  Boston,  and  send  the 
yacht  round  with  the  captain  and  crew." 

If  /  were  willing  ?     Heavens ! 

"And  we'll  have  just  the  jolliest  time,"  said 
Miss  Hansborough,  admiring  the  rose  she  had 
pinned  on  her  bosom.  "Oh,  I  do  hope  Har 
vard  will  win!" 

"The  doctor  says,"  began  Mrs.  Randolph; 
then  hesitated,  seeming  to  regret  that  she  had 
said  anything. 

"What  does  he  say  ?"  I  asked. 

"He  thought  a  little  sea  trip  and  change 
would  help  you." 

"Good!"  I  cried,  in  pretended  high  spirits. 
"We'll  sail  the  world  over.  I  like  that  name  — 
the  Idler.  It  hints  of  basking  seas,  and  coral 
islands,  and  naked  brown  men,  and  all  the 
things  I've  read  about  and  never  expected  to 
see.  I  admire  Doctor  Thompson.  When  he 
runs  for  mayor  of  New  York  I  shall  be  the  first 
to  vote  for  him." 


IN  THE  FOOL'S  PARADISE 

"Doctor  Thompson  is  a  wonderful  man," 
said  Mrs.  Randolph. 

"He  is!"  I  agreed,  with  pretended  levity,  yet 
with  covert  meaning.  "When  he  called  to  see 
me  he  felt  my  pulse  and  talked  about  his  horse. 
We  need  such  a  man  for  President  of  these 
United  States.  How  he  would  see  through  all 
the  little  schemes  of  the  mere  politicians!" 

Though  I  was  laughing  as  I  ended  I  saw  that 
Mrs.  Randolph  was  not  pleased.  She  admired 
that  great  man,  Doctor  Thompson,  and  be 
lieved  in  him  thoroughly;  and  I  did  not  doubt 
that  she  wrote  generous  checks  for  him,  in  a 
fair  and  beautiful  feminine  hand.  She  would 
have  done  as  well,  I  felt,  if  she  had  thrown  her 
money  into  the  East  River. 

We  arose  from  the  table,  still  talking,  and 
Miss  Hansborough  began  to  select  some  more 
of  the  reddest  of  the  roses. 

I  strolled  uneasily  into  the  library,  where  the 
deep  windows  overlooked  the  avenue.  Mrs. 
Randolph  followed  me,  and  came  and  stood 
with  me  by  the  window,  looking  through  the 
curtains  into  the  street.  In  a  few  moments  a 
servant  entered  with  cigars  and  placed  them, 
with  matches,  by  the  little  brass  ash-tray  on  the 
table  near  the  window. 

As    the    servant    retreated,    Mrs.    Randolph 

77 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

drew  up  one  of  the  chairs.  I  reached  for  an 
other,  which  I  placed  beside  it.  She  smiled 
contentedly.  And  like  a  flash  it  came  to  me 
that  Julian  Randolph  had  been  accustomed  to 
sit  by  this  window  and  smoke  his  after-break 
fast  cigar,  and  that  often  his  wife  sat  with  him. 
My  false  gayety  and  the  smile  I  had  summoned 
passed  away  together.  However,  I  took  one  of 
the  cigars  and  lighted  it,  and  sank  into  my 
chair.  Again  my  heart  was  hammering  up  into 
my  throat. 

"Julian,"  she  said,  pathetically,  yet  brightly, 
laying  her  hand  on  the  arm  of  my  chair  and 
looking  at  me  with  such  earnestness  that  my 
gaze  wavered,  "it  is  just  Heaven  to  have  you 
home  again." 


VIII 

INTRODUCES   THE    VILLAIN 

A  THING  happened  that  morning,  while  I 
still  lingered  and  debated  my  course  of 
action,  which  determined  me  to  continue 
my  role.  This  determination  may  have  been 
forced  by  my  desire,  but  I  refuse  to  think  so. 
I  want  to  give  myself  credit  for  one  small  altru 
istic  sentiment. 

Courtney  Lane,  Mrs.  Randolph's  business 
manager,  had  been  summoned  to  the  house, 
and  came  hurriedly.  Standing  well  back  in 
the  library  I  first  caught  sight  of  him  framed  in 
one  of  the  deep  windows  as  in  a  draped  picture, 
as  he  stepped  from  his  red  automobile  to  the 
curb.  All  I  saw  then  was  that  he  was  young 
and  alert.  My  imagination  was  playing  tricks 
with  me  I  suppose,  as  it  had  done  frequently  in 
the  past  few  hours,  but  I  thought  he  sniffed  the 
air  uneasily  as  he  came  up  the  steps,  while  the 
automobile  which  had  brought  him  r  jlled  away. 

I  heard  him  and  Mrs.  Randolph  approach 
ing  the  library,  after  a  long  talk,  and  as  I 
chanced  at  the  moment  to  be  standing  close  by 

79 


THE   CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

the  door,  this  scrap  of  their  low-toned  conver 
sation  floated  to  me: 

He: 

"It's  a  mistake,  and  I  seriously  disapprove 
of  it." 

She: 

"Yet  if  he  isn't  allowed  to  do  this  it  will 
advertise  the  fact  to  the  world,  which  is  the 
thing  I  wish  to  avoid." 

I  drew  heavily  at  my  cigar  and  moved  away 
from  the  door,  wondering  how  I  was  to  see  this 
thing  through  and  what  the  nature  of  the  com 
ing  interview  was  to  be. 

Then  they  came  into  the  room,  she  smiling 
and  walking  a  little  in  advance  of  him.  As  I 
rose  from  the  chair  into  which  I  had  retreated, 
and  for  the  first  time  saw  his  face  clearly,  I 
experienced  a  mental  shock;  for  I  had  met  and 
been  introduced  to  this  man  but  the  week 
before,  in  Philadelphia,  under  circumstances 
which  it  was  impossible  he  could  forget. 

As  his  eyes  fell  on  me  he  stopped  short,  and 
stood  staring,  like  a  gorgon  head  on  a  water 
spout.  Mrs.  Randolph  was  introducing  us,  in 
curiously  unobservant. 

"Mr.  Lane,  let  me  make  you  acquainted  with 
my  husband;  Mr.  Randolph,  Mr.  Lane." 

He  had  alert  eyes  of  steely  blue,  and  good 

80 


INTRODUCES  THE  VILLAIN 

teeth  as  I  saw  when  his  lips  opened  in  a  strange, 
incredulous  smile.  Whatever  his  thoughts  he 
suppressed  them,  but  I  knew  we  were  enemies 
from  that  moment. 

"Glad  to  meet  you/'  I  said,  as  composedly 
as  possible. 

Lane's  smile  deepened  with  meaning. 

"Pardon  me  for  the  suggestion,"  he  said  as 
he  seated  himself;  "  but  I  had  the  strange  expe 
rience  of  meeting  your  counterpart,  in  Phila 
delphia,  the  other  night.  It  was  at  a  students' 
gathering,  and  the  fellow  was  an  under-pro- 
fessor  in  the  school  there,  I  think." 

But  I  had  been  given  time  to  steel  myself. 
He  looked  at  me  steadily,  and  I  as  steadily 
returned  his  gaze.  He  was  a  man  of  thirty,  of 
the  alert,  business  type,  and  I  was  not  surprised 
to  learn  later  that  he  dabbled  in  law,  haunted 
the  stock  exchange,  and  was  Mrs.  Randolph's 
financial  adviser.  His  only  facial  adornment 
was  a  thin,  dark  moustache. 

"I  always  thought  that  after  Nature  fash 
ioned  me  she  broke  the  mould,"  I  said,  as 
lightly  as  I  could.  "There  can't  be  another 
man  in  the  world  like  me." 

"You  were  in  Philadelphia  that  night?"  he 
asked,  with  restrained  eagerness. 

"And  at  that  student  gathering,"  I  admitted, 

81 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"As  an  instructor  there,  through  a  whim,  I  had 
been  for  some  time  pouring  my  borrowed  lore 
into  the  heads  of  meek  youths  who  accepted  it 
as  the  pure  gold  of  knowledge.  They  only  thought 
that  they  knew  less  than  I  did.  Mrs.  Randolph 
could  tell  you  rare  stories  of  my  eccentricities, 
no  doubt,  if  she  should  choose  to  do  so." 

I  spoke  lightly,  and  hoped  to  bewilder  him. 
Mrs.  Randolph's  eyes  opened  a  trifle  and  the 
color  rose  in  her  cheeks.  Lane's  steely  eyes 
narrowed  and  glinted. 

"  I  have  sent  for  Mr.  Lane,  that  we  might  talk 
over  some  matters  of  business,"  she  said,  evasively. 

"Very  true,"  Lane  assented. 

He  passed  his  hand  over  his  thin  moustache, 
to  hide  a  sceptical  smile  I  thought. 

"There  has  been  a  good  deal  of  legal  busi 
ness,  you  understand,"  Mrs.  Randolph  con 
tinued,  "and  Mr.  Lane  attended  to  it  for  me. 
I  had  myself  appointed  administratrix,  but  I 
was  so  inexperienced  that  I  left  the  details  to 
him.  He  has  the  principal  check  books  and 
the  lists  of  the  stocks  and  securities.  I  gave 
him  a  power  of  attorney  to  act  in  my  place  in 
everything,  and  — " 

"To  sign  your  bank  checks  ?"  I  said  sharply, 
and  looked  at  him. 

"I  have  the  stubs  showing  the  later  checks," 

82 


INTRODUCES  THE  VILLAIN 

he  explained,  "and  a  memorandum  book  here 
containing  a  record  of  the  recent  purchases  of 
stocks.  The  others  can  be  produced.  I  did 
not  just  understand  — " 

He  hesitated. 

/  understood,  I  thought.  With  a  full  power 
of  attorney,  he  was  empowered  to  stand  in  her 
stead,  and  that  opened  the  way  to  all  sorts  of 
questionable  devices,  unless  he  was  a  man  of 
the  strictest  integrity.  I  marvelled  at  Mrs. 
Randolph's  business  stupidity.  And  when  I 
saw  her  look  at  him  with  what  seemed  to  me 
more  than  mere  confidence  I  felt  a  swift  fire 
of  jealousy.  Already  I  hated  Courtney  Lane. 
Those  keen  eyes,  the  rather  sharp,  firm  chin,  the 
reposeful  thin-lipped  mouth,  the  broad  daring 
forehead,  indicated  a  man  who  might  be  a  keen 
and  resourceful  Captain  of  Industry,  an  adroit 
diplomat,  a  great  gambler,  or  a  plunger  playing 
the  races  and  taking  dangerous  flyers  in  Wall 
Street.  Withal  he  was  a  man  to  deceive  an 
inexperienced  woman  into  thinking  him  a 
gentleman  of  stainless  honor. 

Instead  of  completing  his  sentence,  he  pro 
duced  a  small  memorandum  book  and  some 
stubs  of  bank  check  books. 

"Everything  recently  done  you  will  find  a 
note  of  here,  Mr.  Randolph." 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

He  extended  them  to  me,  and  emphasized  the 
name. 

Mrs.  Randolph  arose  and  hovered  at  my 
shoulder,  explaining,  as  I  looked  at  these 
vouchers  of  his  integrity.  A  hasty  examination 
showed  me  that  checks  had  been  drawn  for 
large  sums,  and  that  there  had  been  heavy  pur 
chases  of  what  I  fancied  were  questionable 
stocks,  together  with  some  losses. 

"Why!"  she  exclaimed  suddenly,  in  aston 
ished  perturbation,  "I  thought  you  told  me  that 
the  Python  group  would  surely  advance?" 

"I  thought  so  at  the  time,"  he  answered.  "I 
used  my  best  judgment.  If  one  could  foresee 
the  exact  movements  of  the  market  for  even  a 
week  he  could  write  his  check  with  nine  figures 
in  less  than  that  time." 

Yet  I  noted  that  he  had  been  suddenly  con 
fused.  Perhaps  he  had  thought  she  would  not 
see  those  figures,  written  small  at  the  bottom  of 
one  of  the  tiny  pages. 

"  But  you  will  observe  that  Arizona  Consoli 
dated  has  gone  above  par,"  he  added  quickly, 
with  the  apparent  purpose'of  soothing  her  fears 
or  lulling  her  suspicions. 

"Yes,"  she  admitted,  "but  I  had  only  a  few 
dozen  shares  of  that.  And  these  other  shares  — 
Mr.  Lane,  I  didn't  instruct  you  to  buy  so  many!" 


INTRODUCES  THE  VILLAIN 

Her  face  had  become  pale. 

"I  used  my  judgment,  as  you  once  told  me 
to,"  he  urged  blandly.  "I  also  put  a  good  deal 
of  my  own  money  into  them ;  and  while  they  are 
down  now,  I'm  confident  they  will  catch  the  up 
swing  soon,  and  pay  handsomely  in  the  long 
run.  You  will  not  regret  their  purchase,  Mrs. 
Randolph.  But  if  you  wish  I  can  sell  them. 
My  advice  is  against  it,  though." 

His  manner  was  again  easy  and  natural.  He 
even  had  an  elegant  air,  as  of  a  man  of  leisure, 
as  he  sat  there,  leaning  back  in  his  chair. 

She  took  the  book  and  looked  over  the 
columns  of  small  figures,  pondering  and  men 
tally  calculating.  I  studied  Lane,  trying  to 
fathom  the  mind  behind  that  smooth  face.  The 
conviction  that  he  was  tricky,  and  that  in  his 
position  as  agent  and  financial  adviser  he  had 
been  trading  on  Mrs.  Randolph's  ignorance  to 
his  own  financial  betterment,  became  a  cer 
tainty  to  me,  when  she  said: 

"  But  I  didn't  instruct  you,  Mr.  Lane,  to  buy 
any  of  these  shares !  There  was  a  heavy  loss  in 
them  two  months  ago,  and  I  was  assessed." 

"  For  improvements  —  substantial  improve 
ments,"  he  explained.  "When  those  improve 
ments  are  completed  the  shares  will  quickly 
double  in  value." 

85 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

She  puckered  her  brows  in  bewilderment. 
So  convinced  was  I  now  of  his  swindling  that  I 
wanted  to  take  him  by  the  throat  and  hurl  him 
through  the  window.  But  had  even  a  doubt 
of  him  risen  in  the  mind  of  Mrs.  Randolph  ? 
I  knew  it  had  not  when  she  looked  at  him,  for 
the  one  accusation  which  her  look  held  con 
cerned  merely  the  wisdom  of  his  financial  judg 
ments.  His  entire  honesty  she  did  not  question. 

She  sat  down,  with  the  books  L:  her  hands. 
I  saw  his  face  harden  in  anticipation  of  some 
thing.  It  came,  in  her  next  sentence;  and  I 
knew  it  was  one  of  the  things  they  had  discussed 
before  coming  to  me. 

"And  now  about  the  power  of  attorney,  Mr. 
Lane  ?  I  think  it  should  terminate  at  once, 
don't  you,  since  the  return  of  my  husband  ?" 

It  sent  a  thrill  through  me  to  have  her  say 
"my  husband,"  in  that  way,  showing  thus  the 
confidence  of  wifely  love.  And  the  culpability 
of  my  position  again  overwhelmed  me. 

"  It  can  be  attended  to,  if  you  desire  it,"  he 
replied  with  bland  courteousness. 

"The  smooth  rascal  intends  to  argue  her  out 
of  it  later,"  thought  I. 

"I  wish  it,"  she  said.  "We  will  revoke  the 
power  of  attorney,  and  get  this  administration 
matter  wound  up  quietly.  We  can  trust  you  to 

86 


INTRODUCES  THE  VILLAIN 

do  that,  Mr.  Lane  ?  You  will  know  how  to 
manage  it  so  that  it  can  be  kept  from  the  news 
papers  ?" 

"Readily  enough,  I  think,"  he  assented.  "I 
will  soon  adjust  these  matters  to  your  satisfac 
tion,  Mrs.  Randolph.  To-morrow  I  shall  be 
busy  with  a  case  before  the  Superior  Court. 
But  this  shall  be  attended  to,  just  as  you 
wish  it." 

"Will  it  take  long?" 

"Legal  matters  are  proverbially  slow,"  he 
remarked  quietly.  "I  will  hurry  it  for  you  as 
much  as  possible.  If  I  can  I  will  talk  to  the 
Judge  of  Probate  on  the  subject  of  the  admin 
istratorship  early  in  the  morning." 

"But  the  power  of  attorney?"  she  persisted. 
"That  surely  needs  no  delay?" 

"Oh,  as  to  that,"  he  said,  as  if  he  really  would 
be  glad  to  be  well  rid  of  it,  "it  can  be  done  at 
once." 

"As  soon  as  possible,  then,"  she  said,  with 
relief.  "Draw  up  a  revocation  of  the  power 
of  attorney  at  once,  please." 

"Very  well,"  he  answered  calmly;  and  he 
rose  to  go. 

He  extended  his  hand  to  me. 

"Mr.  Randolph,"  he  said,  with  stress  of 
emphasis  on  the  name,  "it  is  a  pleasure  to 

87 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

know  you,  as  it  has  long  been  a  pleasure  to  me 
to  know  your  charming  wife.  I  shall  see  you 
again  soon,  no  doubt.  These  matters  will  be 
attended  to  satisfactorily  at  as  early  a  date  as 
possible." 

He  released  my  hand  and  dropped  the  memo 
randum  and  check  books  into  his  pocket. 

"Your  wife's  summons  was  most  unexpected, 
but  to-morrow,  or  at  some  early  date,  I  shall  be 
pleased  to  make  a  full  exhibit  of  all  my  financial 
transactions  undertaken  in  her  behalf.  I  am 
glad  to  see  that  you  are  looking  so  well,  Mr. 
Randolph." 

"I  hope  we  shall  become  better  acquainted," 
I  answered,  with  covert  meaning. 

He  backed  toward  the  door;  and  went  out 
of  the  room,  followed  by  Mrs.  Randolph,  and 
again  I  heard  them  talking  in  low  tones.  Hot 
indignation  and  impotent  rage  consumed  me. 
To  compose  myself  I  lighted  a  cigar,  and  began 
to  walk  about  the  room,  smoking  furiously,  but 
stopped,  as  had  become  my  custom,  before  that 
window. 

From  it  I  saw  him  descend  to  the  street, 
where  his  automobile,  which  had  been  brought 
round  again,  was  purring  gently,  like  a  big 
family  cat;  and  I  saw  him  leap  in,  give  an  order 
to  the  chauffeur,  and  dash  away.  In  that  sur- 


INTRODUCES  THE  VILLAIN 

veillance,  it  seemed  to  me,  I  detected  the  hidden 
nervousness  and  fright  which  he  had  so  well 
concealed  in  the  library.  I  shook  my  fist  at 
him  as  the  automobile  swept  him  out  of  sight. 

"Courtney  Lane,"  I  said,  but  without  incau 
tiously  voicing  the  words,  "I  have  seen  through 
your  damnable  treachery  to  the  woman  who  is 
trusting  in  you,  and  so  sure  as  there  is  a  God, 
before  I  get  through  with  you  I  will  hurl  you 
out  of  that  red  automobile  into  the  cell  of  a 
prison,  where  you  belong!" 

My  face  was  flushed  and  I  was  agitated  when 
Mrs.  Randolph  returned  to  the  room. 

"How  long  have  you  known  Courtney 
Lane?"  I  asked  abruptly. 

"Nearly  two  years,"  she  answered. 

"I  don't  think  I  am  going  to  like  him,"  I 
declared.  "I  am  glad  you  intend  to  revoke  at 
once  that  power  of  attorney.  The  sooner  you 
do  it  the  better,  in  my  opinion." 

"Why,  Julian,  he  is  perfectly  honest!"  she 
urged. 

"  I  am  not  convinced  of  it,"  I  told  her. 

"  I  thought  I  ought  to  revoke  it  at  once,"  she 
said,  "since  your  return;  and  that  is  what  I  told 
him,  before  we  came  in  here  to  see  you.  I 
didn't  want  to  be  precipitate,  but  I  couldn't 
wait." 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"And  he  was  opposed  to  it  ?" 

"Only  because  he  —  he  thought  it  not  wise 
just  now." 

"Why  not  now  ?"  I  insisted,  almost  forgetting 
my  own  position  in  my  glowing  indignation 
against  Courtney  Lane. 

"Your  strange  disappearance,  Julian;  forgive 
me  for  reminding  you." 

Her  face  flushed. 

"I  think  I'll  show  you  something,"  she  said, 
as  if  to  change  the  subject. 

She  was  gone  but  a  minute,  returning  with  a 
sheaf  of  telegrams  and  letters,  together  with 
copies  of  the  morning  papers. 

"Since  you've  seen  one  of  the  papers,"  she 
explained,  thus  acknowledging  that  the  servant 
of  whom  I  had  taken  the  morning  paper  had 
told  her  of  it. 

She  took  a  chair  by  me  and  began  to  display 
the  telegrams  and  letters.  Many  of  them  were 
addressed  to  "Mr.  Julian  Randolph,"  the  others 
to  her,  and  they  were  congratulatory.  She  had 
opened  all  of  them.  The  senders  had  read  the 
morning  papers,  and  then  had  hurried  these 
messages  of  good  will  to  Mrs.  Randolph  and 
"her  husband." 

"This  is  from  Sir  Philip  Cuthbert,"  she  said, 
taking  up  a  large,  square  envelope  and  extract- 

90 


INTRODUCES  THE  VILLAIN 

ing  a  note  in  big,  boyish  handwriting.  "We 
met  him  in  England,  you  know,  and  he  chances 
now  to  be  in  New  York,  and  is  at  the  Wal 
dorf." 

I  looked  curiously  at  the  upright  handwriting 
and  at  Sir  Philip's  sprawling  signature. 

"And  this  is  from  Mr.  Wilson  Spindrift,  the 
yachtsman.  You  sailed  the  Idler  against  his 
Genesta  once,  off  Marblehead,  and  you  defeated 
him." 

I  sailed  the  Idler!    Ye  gods ! 

"And  this,"  she  opened  a  telegram,  "is  from 
Mrs.  Beale  —  Florence  Beale,  you  know  —  the 
mousie  little  woman  with  catty  eyes  and  reddish 
hair  who  tried  so  hard  to  break  into  society  at 
Newport  that  time.  She  is  still  at  it,  and  hur 
ried  this  to  me.  She  is  one  of  the  'Climbers.' 
You  never  liked  her,  and  I  didn't.  She  threw 
herself  at  Harold  DeKoster,  and  then  threat 
ened  to  sue  him  for  breach  of  promise.  The 
idea!"  She  laughed  lightly. 

"And  here  is  a  telegram  from  Joseph  Still- 
man,  who  is  really  a  fine  architect,  but  not  at  all 
fashionable.  He  doesn't  try  to  'break  in'  any 
where,  with  a  jimmy  or  otherwise.  We  became 
so  well  acquainted  with  him  when  he  designed 
and  built  'The  Poplars" 

There  were  scores  of  them,  and  she  went 

91 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

through  them  all,  while  I  read  and  listened  in 
wonder.  My  position  was  becoming  every  mo 
ment  more  difficult.  I  thought  of  it  as  she  read 
and  commented;  thought  of  Courtney  Lane  and 
the  scoundrelism  with  which  my  imagination 
clothed  him;  thought  of  plans  by  which  I  might 
thwart  him  and  save  Mrs.  Randolph  from  the 
financial  disaster  I  feared;  and  considered,  too, 
the  possible  blows  he  would  deliver  in  return  if 
I  stood  my  ground  and  dared  to  attack  him. 
My  head  buzzed  with  it  all. 

When  she  had  gone  through  the  telegrams 
and  letters  she  turned  to  the  newspapers,  and 
together  we  looked  them  over,  while  I  absorbed 
from  them  information  concerning  Julian  Ran 
dolph. 

"Some  of  these  things  are  ridiculously  pre 
posterous,"  she  declared.  "I  discharged  two  of 
the  servants  this  morning  for  talking  to  the  re 
porters.  Much  of  it,  you  know,  is  out  of  whole 
cloth  —  there  is  not  a  shred  of  truth  in  it." 

I  didn't  know,  though  she  assumed  that  I  did. 
Yet  from  her  criticisms  of  the  news  "stories"  I 
gained  some  knowledge  of  what  to  believe  in 
them  and  what  not  to  believe. 

"Isn't  this  jolly?"  she  cried  suddenly,  refer 
ring  to  the  joy  she  found  in  sitting  by  me  and 
talking  these  things  over  with  me. 

92 


INTRODUCES  THE  VILLAIN 

Her  blue  eyes  were  bright  with  happiness. 

Then  she  saw  the  shadow  on  my  face. 

"I  know  I  distress  you,  Julian!" 

"No,"  I  urged,  "it  is  not  that." 

"You'll  be  willing  to  see  some  of  these  people 
soon?"  she  said,  taking  up  some  of  the  letters 
and  telegrams.  She  seemed  chilled  by  my 
apparent  coldness.  "They  will  expect  it.  And 
I'm  sure  I  shall  enjoy  it.  I've  been  thinking  of 
a  reception.  Silly  of  me,  you'll  say." 

Still  I  did  not  answer.  How  could  I  meet 
these  people  ?  I  knew  not  one  of  them  —  and 
was  glad  that  I  did  not.  But  they  had  known 
Julian  Randolph.  How  could  I  pass  their 
scrutiny  ?  Yet  I  had  passed  hers  successfully, 
and  if  I  could  deceive  her  I  could  deceive  any 
body.  Mixed  with  these  quick  reflections  was 
thought  of  Courtney  Lane.  She  needed  some 
one  to  protect  her  against  him. 

"My  dear  woman,"  I  said,  speaking  out  this 
thought,  "revoke  Mr.  Lane's  power  of  attorney 
at  once  —  without  a  day's  delay." 

"And  that  is  how  you  answer  my  suggestion?" 

"This  is  more  important  than  a  score  of  such 
things." 

"  But  you  do  not  object  ?" 

"  Oh,  no  —  no !  Really,  whatever  you  do  will 
please  me." 

93 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"Now  that  is  like  your  old  self!" 

Before  I  could  prevent  it,  or  divined  her 
intention,  she  kissed  me  on  the  cheek. 

"  Julian,"  she  cried  with  a  sob  of  joy,  "  I  am 
so  happy!  I  can't  tell  you  how  happy  I  am." 


94 


IX 

THE    RECEPTION 

FACES  lie  even  more  than  words.  If  they 
were  given  us  to  exhibit  emotions,  as  words 
to  express  thoughts,  they  have  gone  quite 
as  far  astray  from  this  original  intention.  To 
shirt-waist  from  fig-leaf  is  not  farther  than  to 
the  face-masking  present  from  those  primal 
days  when  men  barked  uproariously  their  loves 
and  hates  and  with  facial  contortions  wrote  the 
history  of  their  changing  sentiments.  Let  us 
rejoice  that  this  is  so.  Were  it  otherwise  who 
could  stand  complacently  before  his  fellow  men  ? 
The  ability  to  make  the  face  say  what  the 
mind  contradicts  enabled  me  to  live  through, 
and  even  to  enjoy  to  a  degree,  the  hours  imme 
diately  following  my  determination  to  play  to 
the  end  my  Comedy  of  Lies  for  the  benefit  of 
Mrs.  Randolph's  finances.  In  this  comedy  I 
foresaw  Courtney  Lane  enacting  the  role  of 
Villain  with  a  big  V,  and  myself  the  Hero. 

Yet  I  do  think  my  intentions  were  genuinely 
heroic,  and  I  insist  here  on  being  credited  to 
that  extent.  For  I  thought  to  immolate  my 

95 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

love  on  the  altar  of  service.  He  who  can  so 
resolve,  if  no  more,  is,  it  seems  to  me,  as  worthy 
of  praise  as  that  over-lauded  individual  who  in 
the  hot  and  bloody  excitement  of  battle  rushes 
with  bayoneted  rifle  up  to  the  snarling  lips  of 
smoke-wreathed  cannon.  There  are  other  ways 
of  committing  suicide,  and  the  motives  may  be 
quite  as  fine.  I  knew  I  could  not  live  if  I  now 
lost  Mrs.  Randolph. 

She  had  flowered  forth  like  a  new-made  bride, 
and  began  to  revel  in  bewildering  vanities  of 
dress.  Hourly,  while  I  was  trying  to  plan  my 
battle  lines  and  making  believe  that  in  strategy 
I  was  an  Oyama-Togo,  she  came  to  me  to  ex 
hibit  some  "creation,"  with  a  distracting  rust 
ling  and  trailing  of  skirts,  asking  my  opinion  of 
the  pretty  things,  just  as  if  I  were  a  Parisian 
man-milliner. 

Whatever  she  wore  she  was  the  loveliest 
woman  under  the  sun,  and  many  times  I  was 
tempted  into  telling  her  so,  when  she  walked 
around  and  before  me  with  such  saucy  and 
happy  piquancy,  begging  me  with  her  sapphire 
eyes  to  admire  her.  After  each  yielding  I  had 
to  lash  myself  anew  with  the  cactus  thongs. 
Which  gave  me  a  novel  view  of  the  mediaeval 
conscience  administering  self-punishment  and 
then  hurrying  gayly  to  sin  again. 


THE  RECEPTION 

"  Julian,"  she  said  with  sly  witchery  in  one  of 
these  delightful  moments,  "I  feel  just  as  if  I 
were  a  girl  again,  in  the  salad  days  of  our  court 
ship.  You  were  too  timid  for  anything,  and 
I  just  adored  your  shrinking  timidity,  and 
wouldn't  have  had  you  otherwise  for  the  world. 
Now,  look  at  me!"  (She  shook  her  finger  at 
me  saucily,  as  if  I  were  a  Boston  terrier  that 
she  was  trying  to  teach  tricks !)  "  Don't  you 
think  this  dress  the  most  becoming  of  all  ?" 

"It  is,"  I  admitted.  "The  one  you  are  wear 
ing  is  always  the  prettiest  of  all." 

"Where  did  you  learn  that  flattery  ?  But  you 
always  were  a  flatterer.  I  think  you  were  born 
in  Ireland,  close  by  the  Blarney  Stone.  I  won 
der  you  haven't  a  brogue.  Now,  I'll  show  you 
what  I'm  to  wear  at  the  reception." 

She  tripped  away,  laughing  back  at  me  from 
the  doorway,  where  she  made  a  pretty  picture. 
And  then  she  ran  daintily  through  the  connect 
ing  room  into  her  own  apartments,  where  her 
maid  awaited  her. 

When  she  returned  I  gasped  at  her  loveliness. 
She  was  in  evening  dress,  of  pure  white,  relieved 
only  by  a  red  rose.  Her  shoulders  and  arms 
were  matchless,  her  slender  figure  willowy  with 
grace,  her  shining  brown  hair  done  in  a  bewil 
dering  coil  which  my  masculine  pencil  refuses 

97 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

to  attempt  to  describe.  I  could  not  restrain  my 
pride  in  her,  and  my  rapture. 

"You  are  simply  divine!"  I  cried,  with  the 
enthusiasm  of  high  emotion,  f 

"Do  you  like  it  ?" 

She  turned  slowly  round  and  round  that  I 
might  view  her  charms  from  every  point. 

"Like  it  ?     You  are  adorable." 

"Why  don't  you  say  the  rest  ?" 

"The  rest?" 

"Use  my  name,  I  mean.  Why  don't  you 
say,  'You  are  adorable,  Kitty?'  That  is,  if 
you  think  so." 

"I  do  think  so." 

"'Kitty,'"  she  added. 

"Kitty  Randolph,  you  are  the  loveliest,  the 
most  beautiful  woman  I  ever  saw." 

She  reddened  like  a  debutante,  for  she  saw 
that  I  meant  it. 

Miss  Hansborough  rendered  Mrs.  Randolph 
valuable  assistance  in  all  this.  The  nut-brown 
maid  had  not  only  "a  flashing  eye  to  love,"  but 
a  simply-practical  mind.  Her  pulse  was  rhyth 
mically  cool.  I  was  sure  she  played  golf  with 
precision  and  lack  of  bubbling  inefficiency,  even 
before  I  was  told  so.  Such  a  woman  would  be 
sure  to  tee  her  golf  ball  and  drive  it  with  calm 
ness  of  nerve  and  clarity  of  vision. 


THE  RECEPTION 

"Sister  mine,"  she  would  say,  speaking 
through  the  fish-weir  of  pins  that  filled  her 
mouth,  "your  hair  must  come  down  a  little;  it 
is  entirely  too  high." 

To  me  at  the  moment  Mrs.  Randolph's  hair 
could  not  have  been  bettered.  But  when  the 
change  had  been  made  I  knew  that  the  nut- 
brown  maid  was  right. 

"Sister  mine,"  she  would  say  again,  half 
closing  her  brown  eyes  while  standing  back  to 
look,  "that  skirt  is  a  trifle  short  behind." 

It  was  perfect,  I  thought;  this  particular  skirt 
belonging  to  an  outing  dress  that  revealed  dainty 
boots  and  the  trimmest  of  ankles.  But  again 
when  the  skirt  came  down  I  was  forced  to 
admire  Miss  Hansborough's  judgment. 

But  when  the  nut-brown  maid  turned  to  me 
(Mrs.  Randolph  was  out  of  the  room)  and  said, 
"Julian,  are  you  afraid  of  the  reporters?"  I 
was  too  startled  to  admire  her. 

"They  are  likely  to  be  annoying,"  I  stam 
mered. 

"Very  true,"  she  admitted,  "but  it  strikes 
me  that  the  way  to  disarm  them  is  to  show  them 
that  there  is  no  powder  in  their  pistols." 

Mrs.  Randolph  came  in,  with  the  suggested 
change  made  in  her  dress,  and  Miss  Hans- 
borough  went  no  further. 

99 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

That  evening,  however,  when  Jerome  came 
to  me,  I  learned  why  she  had  made  that  start 
ling  declaration.  Jerome  was  usually  as  silent 
of  voice  as  of  foot  unless  I  questioned  him  and 
set  him  to  talking,  when  he  could  become  as 
garrulous  as  any  New  England  spinster  over 
her  tea-cups.  I  questioned  him  that  evening, 
and  he  told  me  of  a  reporter's  attempt  to  get  to 
see  me  and  his  hint  that  I  was  not  Julian  Ran 
dolph. 

"The  rascal  came  into  the  kitchen,  sir,  in  the 
disguise  of  a  servant  girl;  and  he  had  got  into 
the  long  hall  that  leads  to  the  dining  room, 
when  I  stopped  him." 

His  white  face  had  flushed  to  a  pale-rose 
color  at  the  recollection. 

"Here,  Miss,'  I  said,  politely  enough,  for  I 
thought  him  a  woman,  *  where  are  you  going  ?' 

:<To  see  the  missus/  he  said,  and  ducked  me 
a  curtsey. 

"  I  told  him  if  he  had  any  word  for  Mrs.  Ran 
dolph  I  would  see  that  it  reached  her.  Then 
he  tried  to  get  by  me. 

"Stop!'  I  said,  and  put  out  my  hand  to 
detain  him. 

"When,  in  pushing  against  the  wall  and 
ducking  to  get  by  me,  his  wig  came  off,  and  fell 
to  the  floor,  I  was  that  speechless,  sir,  he  might 

100 


THE  RECEPTION 

have  gone  on,  only  he  was  as  confused  as  I  was 
myself.  He  had  short,  curly,  black  hair;  and 
for  the  first  time  I  noticed  the  blue  tint  of  his 
close-shaved  beard  under  the  flour  dust  he  had 
rubbed  on  his  chin  in  the  cook  room. 

"Here,  you  rascal!'  I  said,  taking  hold  of 
him  as  he  stooped  to  get  his  wig.  Then  he 
stood  up  boldly,  seeing  he  was  discovered,  and 
laughed  at  me. 

"Let  up!'  he  said,  for  I  had  gripped  him 
tight. 

"What  does  this  mean  ?'  I  asked. 
"He  put  his  hand  in  the  pocket  of  his  dress 
and  brought  out  a  twenty-dollar  bill. 

"Do  you  like  the  looks  of  that?'  he  asked. 
The  brazenness  of  the  wretch  took  away  my 
breath,  sir.  'There  are  four  more  of  these  — 
an  even  hundred  round  simoleons  —  if  you'll 
let  me  go  up  to  the  rooms  of  Mr.  Randolph. 
Say  it  quick,  and  I'll  run  right  along,  and  no 
one  shall  ever  know  you  had  a  hand  in  it.  I'm 
the  representative  of  the  Evening  Moon.'  He 
took  out  his  card  as  proof. 

"When  I  said,  'No!'  he  tried  to  bribe  me  into 
telling  him  something  about  you.  He  said  his 
paper  had  received  a  'tip'  from  a  reliable  source 
that  you  were  not  Julian  Randolph,  and  they 
wanted  to  know  about  it.  For  that  reason  he 

101 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

had  got  into  the  house  as  a  servant  girl.  And 
he  said  he  would  double  the  sum  offered,  make 
it  two  hundred  dollars,  if  I  would  give  him 
information  on  that  point,  or  would  let  him  go 
to  your  rooms  to  see  you.  What  he  expected 
to  do,  sir,  if  he  saw  you,  I  don't  know.  But  I 
marched  him  out  of  the  hall,  and  then  calling 
the  butler  we  turned  him  out  of  the  house." 

While  telling  this  Jerome  so  far  forgot  him 
self  that  he  waved  his  hands  dramatically,  while 
the  rosy  pink  of  his  face  deepened  and  faded 
and  then  deepened  again  with  the  tremendous 
excitement  of  his  adventure.  And  withal,  as  I 
learned  later  from  other  sources,  he  told  the 
story  quietly  enough  and  without  self-exploita 
tion;  for  it  seems  the  young  masquerader  had 
fairly  fought  to  get  back  into  the  hall  and  up 
the  stairs,  when  he  found  his  offered  bribes  were 
in  vain  and  that  he  was  about  to  be  bundled 
into  the  street. 

A  renewed  sense  of  the  dangers  of  my  situa 
tion  was  thus  impressed  upon  me.  Behind  the 
attempt  I  saw  the  hand  of  Courtney  Lane.  He 
suspected  me  and  had  communicated  his  sus 
picions  to  this  newspaper. 

The  more  I  thought  about  it  the  more  Miss 
Hansborough's  suggestion  that  I  was  afraid  of 
the  reporters  startled  me.  I  feared  she  had 

102 


THE  RECEPTION 

seen  through  my  pretensions,  or  suspected  me. 
For  I  had  ceased  to  declare  that  I  was  not 
Julian  Randolph,  believing  if  I  was  to  aid  Mrs. 
Randolph  I  must  maintain  her  faith  in  me  as 
her  husband.  Otherwise,  I  feared  I  could  do 
nothing. 

O 

In  one  way  my  task  was  ridiculously  easy. 
When  I  stumbled,  or  was  in  danger  of  stum 
bling,  Julian  Randolph's  eccentricity  was  the 
staff  on  which  I  leaned.  Whatever  I  did  or 
failed  in  doing  could  be  credited  to  my  lost 
memory  and  to  my  inherent  capacity  for  doing 
a  thing  as  no  one  else  ever  did  it  before  or  was 
likely  to  do  it  afterwards. 

Lane  had  not  returned  to  the  house,  as  he 
had  promised,  nor  had  he  hastened  to  draw  a 
revocation  of  that  power  of  attorney.  The 
time-consuming  demands  of  certain  business 
before  the  Superior  Court  was  his  first  excuse. 
Then  I  learned  he  had  left  the  city,  after  send 
ing  to  Mrs.  Randolph  a  note  stating  that  an 
important  matter  had  called  him  away  sud 
denly.  I  knew  what  that  important  matter 
was  —  he  had  gone  to  Philadelphia. 

But  while  he  was  trying  in  Philadelphia  to 
get  a  line  on  my  past  I  was  scanning  our  prob 
able  battlefield  and  preparing  for  him  as  well 
as  I  could ;  and  was  getting  a  wonderful  amount 

103 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

of  happiness  out  of  my  new  position,  in  spite 
of  a  condemning  conscience  and  anticipatory 
sufferings. 

So  the  evening  came,  in  which  I  was  to  meet 
some  of  the  people  who  had  written  and  wired 
their  congratulations. 

That  afternoon  the  Evening  Moon  had  sensa 
tion  "scare-heads"  above  a  half-column  of 
guesswork  which  it  probably  denominated  a 
"beat."  Though  the  name  of  Julian  Randolph 
did  not  appear,  all  who  had  read  of  his  "re 
turn"  would  know  what  was  meant. 

"You  do  not  believe  any  of  that  stuff?"  I 
said,  when  we  had  gone  through  the  slurring 
questions  and  broad  hints  of  "mystery"  lying 
behind  that  "return." 

Mrs.  Randolph  looked  at  me  with  frightened 
eyes.  I  confess  it  was  a  foolish  question,  when 
the  part  I  was  enacting  is  considered. 

"Julian,"  she  said,  "don't  be  silly!" 

"  Can  we  go  through  the  ordeal  to-night,  after 
this  ?"  I  said,  looking  at  the  offensive  news 
paper. 

"Very  easily,"  she  said,  with  sweet  serenity. 

Yet  I  confess  to  a  great  dread  when  the 
ordeal  came. 

The  affair  was  supposed  to  be  quite  informal; 
which  only  meant  that,  though  they  could  not 

104 


THE  RECEPTION 

be  wholly  omitted,  there  was  to  be  as  little  as 
possible  of  the  fuss  and  feathers  of  fashionable 
society. 

Mrs.  Randolph  wore  that  distracting  dress  of 
pure  white,  with  the  contrasting  red  rose  as  the 
only  color.  The  brilliance  of  her  complexion, 
the  heavenly  blue  of  her  eyes,  the  glory  of  her 
shining  brown  hair,  drew  such  attention  that  I 
was  quite  jealous.  Miss  Hansborough,  her 
evening  dress  displaying  dazzling  shoulders, 
helped  us  to  "receive." 

We  stood  just  within  the  entrance  to  what 
Mrs.  Randolph  called  "our  garden,"  a  large 
glassed-in  space  filled  with  palms  and  flowers, 
with  a  fountain  splashing  in  the  centre,  and  an 
orchestra  hidden  behind  the  palms  playing 
popular  airs  and  Strauss  waltzes.  Brilliant 
lights  flooded  the  "garden,"  making  it  light  as 
day. 

The  whole  gave  me  a  sense  of  the  wealth  of 
Mrs.  Randolph  which  hitherto  I  had  not  felt. 
She  had  been  so  girlish,  so  natural,  so  un 
affected  and  affectionate,  that  the  fact  of  her 
wealth  had  not  been  impressed  on  me  thor 
oughly,  in  spite  of  the  richness  of  the  brown- 
stone  mansion,  the  retinue  of  servants,  my 
valet,  and  those  indications  of  Courtney  Lane's 
piratical  attempt. 

105 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

I  recall  that  in  their  reports  the  next  morning 
the  newspapers  spoke  of  the  "distinguished 
company."  There  were  many  names  honored 
in  two  hemispheres,  as  one  of  the  papers  stated. 
How  I  bore  myself  under  the  strain  of  meeting 
these  people,  many  of  whom  I  was  supposed  to 
know,  puzzles  me  still;  but  I  met  them,  sup 
ported  by  Mrs.  Randolph  and  her  sister. 

Occasionally  there  was  an  introduction,  as  — 

"  Mr.  Sturtevant,  let  me  make  you  acquainted 
with  my  husband." 

And  Mr.  Sturtevant,  a  high-shouldered,  eye- 
glassed  man,  who  looked  to  be  a  literary  burner 
of  midnight  oil,  but  who  was  really  a  Wall 
Street  banker,  murmured  my  name,  mentioned 
casually  the  state  of  the  weather,  openly  flat 
tered  Mrs.  Randolph  on  her  appearance,  and, 
crowded  by  others,  drifted  on. 

Later  in  the  evening  I  came  near  getting  a 
"cropper."  The  dancing  was  in  progress  and 
Mrs.  Randolph  had  been  torn  from  my  side  by 
Sir  Philip  Cuthbert,  who  would  not  be  denied. 
It  was  then  that  John  Denton,  whom  all  New 
York  knows  as  a  "society  favorite"  and  a  "first 
nighter,"  remarked  with  a  laugh  as  he  squeezed 
my  hand,  finding  me  for  the  moment  alone: 

"You  recall  what  you  told  me  at  the  Bach 
elors'  Club  the  day  before  you  were  married  ?" 

106 


THE  RECEPTION 

He  beamed  amiably. 

I  didn't  remember  it,  of  course,  and  I  had  to 
say  so. 

"Harry  Tremaine  was  with  us.  Recall  it 
now  ?" 

"No,"  I  said,  in  desperation. 

Denton  looked  hard  at  me  as  he  stirred  his 
glass. 

"Oh,  well,  if  you've  forgotten  it!"  he  said, 
with  a  harsh  laugh.  "It  was  only  a  few  thou 
sand  that  I  hold  your  IOU  for  as  a  result  of  that 
poker  game.  You  went  abroad,  I  understood, 
and  I've  heard  nothing  of  it  since.  But  if  you 
want  to  repudiate  it — " 

He  drank  his  wine. 

"I  have  no  such  intention,"  I  declared,  un 
comfortably  hot.  "I  had  simply  forgot  it." 

His  manner  was  arctic  as  he  walked  away. 

Near  the  close,  when  many  had  gone  and  the 
hour  was  late,  or,  rather,  early,  I  being  again 
alone  for  a  few  moments,  Jerome  came  by  me, 
brushing  my  shoulder  quite  as  if  by  accident, 
to  attract  my  attention. 

"At  the  farther  end  of  the  garden,  near  the 
door,"  he  whispered.  "It's  Courtney  Lane, 
with  that  reporter.  And  I  know  that  the  reporter 
was  not  invited." 

His   communication  startled  me.      I  looked, 

107 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

and  saw  Lane  and  a  slim,  dark  young  man, 
with  eyeglasses  perched  on  his  thin  nose,  com 
ing  toward  me. 

"How  the  reporter  got  in  I  don't  know,"  said 
Jerome;  "but  he  shall  he  thrown  out,  sir,  if  you 
give  the  word." 

Mrs.  Randolph,  dancing  with  Harold  De- 
Koster,  floated  by  me.  Her  azure  eyes  were 
shining,  her  cheeks  like  pink  peonies;  her  diaph 
anous  white  draperies  half  revealed  and  half 
concealed  her  loveliness.  My  eyes  followed  her 
with  anxious  longing.  Behind  her  came  Miss 
Hansborough  and  her  escort;  but  my  eyes  were 
for  Mrs.  Randolph  alone.  Lucky  dog  —  De- 
Koster!  Something  choked  in  my  throat  when 
I  saw  her  smile  up  into  his  face.  And  it  made 
my  sight  blur  strangely.  For  the  moment  I 
forgot  Courtney  Lane  and  the  reporter  who 
were  making  their  way  slowly  toward  me.  Mrs. 
Randolph  did  not  see  Lane,  I  observed. 

Then  he  stood  before  me,  the  reporter  just  in 
his  rear  cocking  an  ear  forward.  Lane  fixed 
on  me  his  eyes  of  steely  blue.  The  reporter 
looked  away,  as  if  not  listening. 

"Could  I  have  a  word  with  you,  Mr.  Ran 
dolph?" 

Again  there  was  that  queer  emphasis  on  the 
name. 

108 


THE  RECEPTION 

I  hesitated;  then  answered,  boldly  and  defi 
antly  : 

"A  dozen  of  them,  if  you  like." 

"Can we  go  somewhere?"  he  asked, glancing 
about. 

"There  is  a  room  over  there,"  I  said,  nodding 
toward  the  palms.  "We  can  go  in  there,  if  you 
have  anything  of  importance  to  say  to  me." 

"I  consider  it  important,"  he  declared. 

I  stepped  round  the  palms,  and  moved  toward 
the  small  room  that  lay  behind  them.  Some  of 
the  guests  came  out  as  we  approached  and  left 
it  empty.  The  reporter  followed  Lane,  with 
out  invitation;  and  I  saw  Jerome  hovering  be 
hind,  looking  solicitously  at  me,  as  if  begging 
permission  to  do  something  desperate.  His 
usually  white  face  was  again  a  rosy  pink. 

Lane  slid  into  a  chair  by  the  table. 

"Bring  the  gentleman  some  whiskey  and 
soda,"  I  said  to  the  waiter  who  had  followed  us 
in.  "Or  do  you  prefer  a  cocktail?"  I  added, 
looking  at  Lane  coldly. 

"The  whiskey  and  soda,  please,"  he  said, 
carelessly. 

He  half  veiled  his  cold  eyes,  as  he  looked  at  me. 

"A  Martini  cocktail,"  I  said  to  the  waiter. 

The  pulsing  music  of  the  orchestra  over 
flowed  into  this  quiet  retreat  in  drowsy  ca- 

109 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

dences.  Just  beyond  the  door  stood  the 
reporter,  staring  at  the  dancers  with  his  black 
eyes,  yet  with  his  elephantine  ears  turned  in  our 
direction,  I  knew;  and  not  far  from  him  Jerome 
still  hovered  uneasily.  I  smiled,  and  returned 
Lane's  look  with  one  of  contempt  and  defiance. 

The  whiskey  and  soda  and  Martini  cocktail 
were  brought. 

"That  is  all,"  I  said  to  the  waiter. 

The  automaton  vanished. 

"Now  what  is  it  ?"  I  demanded  of  Lane. 

The  cocktail  and  the  whiskey  and  soda  stood 
untouched  before  us.  My  face  was  red  enough 
without  the  stimulus  of  drink.  Lane  was  still 
calm  and  collected. 

"Just  this,"  he  said,  leaning  toward  me,  with 
one  firm  white  hand  on  the  table.  "I  have 
been  to  Philadelphia!" 


no 


X 

COURTNEY  LANE  THREATENS 

"T  HAVE  been  to  Philadelphia!"  Lane  re 
peated,  boring  me  with  his  steel-blue  eyes. 
I  laughed  harshly  and  defiantly. 

"I  guessed  as  much." 

"You  know  what  I  have  discovered  ?" 

"/  have  discovered  that  you  are  a  fool  and  a 
meddler!"  I  flashed  at  him. 

"I  have  discovered  that  your  mysterious 
absence  from  your  chair  as  instructor  in  physics 
at  the  Gilbert  Porter  Institute  is  causing  more 
than  a  mild  sensation!" 

"It  is  pleasant  to  be  remembered,  after  we 
have  departed,"  I  murmured,  clinking  my 
fingers  against  my  glass  until  the  cherry  in  the 
liquor  danced  and  sparkled. 

"Is  that  all  you  have  to  say  about  it  ?" 

"What  should  I  say  ?"  I  asked  sweetly. 

"If  I  go  to  Mrs.  Randolph  with  this  you  know 
what  will  happen!" 

"I'm  sure  I  do  not,"  I  declared.  "Pray 
enlighten  me." 

"Well,  you  are  not  Julian  Randolph!" 

Ill 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"No?"  I  cried.  I  sipped  my  cocktail  to 
cover  any  possible  confusion,  though  I  believed 
I  now  had  my  nerves  well  under  control.  "  Dear 
me!  Who,  then,  am  I  ?" 

"You  are  Louis  Armitage." 

"This  is  interesting,"  I  observed,  and  I  wrote 
the  initials  on  the  table  with  the  wet  foot  of  the 
glass. 

"You  know  that  I  can  land  you  in  jail  for 
this  deception,"  he  said,  his  low  voice  trembling. 

"I  am  surprised  that  you  do  not  then." 

I  waved  my  hand  toward  the  listening  re 
porter. 

"You  did  well  to  bring  with  you  that  repre 
sentative  of  the  Evening  Sewer.  I  expected  you 
would  feel  at  home  in  the  company  of  his  kind. 
I've  noticed,  when  travelling  in  the  South  and 
West,  that  buzzards  often  fly  in  pairs." 

His  face  flushed. 

"You  defy  me?"  he  said,  in  that  same  low 
tone,  while  the  flush  seemed  to  creep  from  his 
face  into  his  cold  eyes  and  lend  them  a  sudden 
flame. 

I  laughed,  leaning  back  in  my  chair. 

"Lane,"  I  said,  "I  have  seen  through  you 
from  the  first,  and  — " 

"And  I  through  you!"  he  cried,  forgetting 
himself  and  lifting  his  voice. 

112 


COURTNEY  LANE  THREATENS 

Your  imagination  quite  equals  your  au 
dacity,  and  your  dishonesty.'* 

"  Dishonesty  ?     What  do  you  mean  by  that  ?" 

"I  hardly  think  you  need  to  ask."  I  low 
ered  my  voice  as  a  hint  to  him  to  lower  his. 
"  And  now  you  are  exhibiting  yourself  as  a  first- 
class  specimen  of  the  genus  Fool.  I  was  never 
in  that  school  you  speak  of  in  my  life." 

He  gulped  his  astonishment. 

"But  —  but,"  he  stammered,  "you  confessed 
it  yourself,  in  the  presence  of  Mrs.  Randolph." 

"  I  was  then  simply  answering  a  Fool  accord 
ing  to  his  folly." 

"You  deny  it?" 

He  half  rose  from  the  table,  to  sink  back 
trembling. 

"  If  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  take  the  trouble 
to  deny  it,  I  deny  it;  yes." 

"Then  I'll  produce  the  proofs,"  he  threat 
ened.  "I'll  expose  you  —  I'll  publish  you  to 
the  world.  I'll  brand  you  for  what  you  are; 
and  I'll—" 

"Lane,"  I  said,  "for  Heaven's  sake,  don't 
shriek!  Tell  that  scoundrelly  reporter  whatever 
you  want  to,  at  another  time  —  you'll  do  that, 
any  way;  so  that  I  don't  see  why  you  should 
have  bothered  to  sneak  him  in  here;  but  remem 
ber  Mrs.  Randolph  and  her  guests." 

"3 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"I'll  publish  you  to  the  world,  and  I'll  have 
you  arrested  for  the  impostor  that  you  are!" 

"  If  you  undertake  anything  so  foolish,  Lane, 
it  will  simply  hasten  my  exposure  of  you,  and 
you  will  have  a  long  time  to  think  it  over  and 
regret  it  behind  the  walls  of  Sing  Sing." 

Again  I  sipped  my  cocktail  and  smiled.  Mrs. 
Randolph  could  confuse  me  and  bring  my  heart 
into  my  throat  by  a  word  or  a  look;  but  with  a 
man,  and  a  man  whom  I  hated,  it  was  different; 
and  having  prepared  my  battle  lines  I  at  the 
moment  felt  that  I  could  defy  Courtney  Lane. 

"  Let  me  tell  you  what  I  know,"  I  said,  speak 
ing  with  growing  boldness.  "And  I  should  be 
glad  if  that  long-eared  reporter  would  put  this 
in  his  paper;  his  readers  would  find  it  interest 
ing.  He  would  be  able  to  say  that  Courtney 
Lane,  acting  as  the  business  agent  of  Mrs. 
Julian  Randolph,  whom  he  had  deceived  into 
thinking  him  an  honorable  gentleman,  had  been 
swindling  her  from  the  moment  he  became  her 
legal  adviser  and  financial  agent  until  now. 
He  would  also  be  able  to  say  that  after  Court 
ney  Lane  had  been  requested  by  her  to  prepare 
a  revocation  of  the  power  of  attorney  he  held 
and  had  wilfully  neglected  and  refused  to  do 
so,  she  had  revoked  it,  without  consulting  him 
further;  and  that  steps  are  being  taken  looking 

114 


COURTNEY  LANE  THREATENS 

to  his  arrest  on  charges  of  embezzlement  and 
the  criminal  diversion  of  her  funds." 

Twice  Lane  tried  to  interrupt  me,  and  I  saw 
the  fire  in  the  hard  blue  eyes  die  out  and  the 
face  show  a  trace  of  pallor.  He  seemed  to 
shrivel  behind  that  immaculate  shirt  front. 

"The  power  of  attorney  has  not  been  re 
voked!"  he  protested. 

"It  is  to  be,"  I  claimed,  "and  the  other  things 
will  follow  the  moment  you  open  your  mud  bat 
teries  on  me  and  try  to  bespatter  me  through 
the  columns  of  the  sensational  press.  Your  re 
porter  is  listening  to  this;  let  him  put  it  down." 

"My  financial  dealings  with  Mrs.  Randolph 
have  been  strictly  honorable!"  he  sputtered. 

"You  will  have  a  chance  to  prove  that,  if  you 
go  farther  on  the  line  you  have  chosen.  So, 
take  warning!  I  am  Julian  Randolph;  and 
only  the  fact  that  you  are  an  invited  guest  here, 
though  an  unwelcome  one,  and  that  I  do  not 
want  a  scene,  keeps  me  from  kicking  you 
through  that  door,  and  having  you  ejected 
from  the  house,  together  with  your  elephant- 
eared  friend,  whom  you  dishonorably  smuggled 
in." 

"You  threaten  me?"  he  said.  His  eyes  held 
a  gleam  of  fury. 

"I  defy  you!" 

"5 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

Jerome  had  bustled  to  the  door. 

"Something  I  can  do,  sir?"  he  asked,  poking 
his  pink  face  into  the  room  and  staring  hard  at 
Lane. 

"Thank  you,  nothing,  Jerome,"  I  said,  rising 
from  the  table. 

Lane  got  to  his  feet  unsteadily. 

"I'll  see  you  again!"  he  said. 

The  words  were  low  and  the  tone  a  threat. 

He  left  the  room  and  hurried  away,  and  the 
reporter  followed  him.  I  was  well  pleased  with 
the  courageous  front  I  had  shown,  and  its  re 
sult.  Jerome  was  still  filled  with  resentment. 

"That  reporter  ought  to  have  been  invited  to 
leave,"  he  protested. 

The  company  was  breaking  up,  and  I  has 
tened  to  place  myself  beside  Mrs.  Randolph,  to 
receive  the  parting  words  of  our  guests. 


116 


POWDER   IN   MY   PISTOL 

I  LOOKED  at  Jerome,  wondering  if  I  could 
use  him,  in  a  matter  that  promised  to  be 
peculiarly  delicate.    He  might  have  the  will 
ingness,  but  did  he  possess  the  requisite  tact 
and  discretion  ? 

His  nose  was  almost  patrician;  yet  he  was  a 
servant  to  the  tips  of  his  white  fingers.  We 
have  not  many  of  his  class  native  to  this  coun 
try.  Your  true  American  is  like  one  of  Napo 
leon's  soldiers,  in  that  he  believes  he  carries  the 
baton  of  a  Field  Marshal  in  his  knapsack.  It 
is  this  that  has  made  us  the  Nation  we  are. 
Ambition  is  a  good  thing;  and  it  is  well  to  hitch 
your  wagon  to  a  star,  if  you  have  the  wagon.  I 
decided  that  I  could  not  trust  the  matter  to 
Jerome.  Something  more  than  the  subservient 
willingness  of  a  servant  was  needed. 

Finding,  to  my  delight,  that  Mrs.  Randolph 
had  gone  out,  I  determined  to  undertake  the 
thing  myself,  and  sent  Jerome  away.  The  next 
few  minutes  I  spent  in  studying  the  directories, 
and  kept  the  telephone  wires  hot.  Then  I  sat 

117 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

down  in  a  flutter  of  guilty  excitement,  like  the 
small  boy  who  is  planning  so  slip  past  the 
parental  eye  and  play  with  those  horrid  McGin- 
nis  children  in  the  neighboring  alley. 

When  I  thought  I  had  waited  long  enough  I 
tiptoed  down-stairs,  my  breath  coming  fast  as 
I  did  so.  The  auto-car  I  had  summoned  from 
the  garage  was  there.  I  could  have  shouted 
when  I  beheld  it.  The  chauffeur  put  his  fingers 
to  his  cap  in  salutation,  as  I  ran  down  the  steps. 
No  reporters  were  roosting  on  the  carved, 
bronze  railings.  I  leaped  lightly  in,  taking  a 
seat  beside  him. 

"Broadway!"  I  said;  "move  her  along!"  I 
dared  not  look  back. 

The  chauffeur  "moved  her  along"  so  quickly 
that  we  were  a  hundred  feet  from  the  house  and 
gathering  speed  before  I  observed  that  he  was 
not  the  man  I  had  expected.  More  than  once 
while  looking  through  the  windows  of  the  library 
I  had  seen  Mrs.  Randolph's  chauffeur. 

"  Hello ! "  I  said,  staring  at  him.  "  How  is  this  ? 
You  are  not  Mrs.  Randolph's  chauffeur." 

He  looked  straight  ahead.  I  was  sure  Mrs. 
Randolph's  chauffeur  was  smooth-faced  and 
younger;  this  man  wore  a  moustache,  and  had 
eyeglasses  under  his  disfiguring  and  disguising 
goggles. 

118 


POWDER  IN  MY  PISTOL 

"I  am  your  chauffeur,"  he  answered,  giving 
the  steering  wheel  a  turn  and  sending  the  au 
tomobile  round  an  interfering  carnage.  "You 
didn't  know  that?" 

He  laughed. 

"Come!"  I  cried;  "this  won't  do!  I  don't 
know  you,  and  I  won't  go  any  farther.  Stop 
the  auto!" 

I  caught  him  by  the  arm. 

"Listen,"  he  said,  but  without  taking  his  eyes 
off  the  road  before  him.  "  I  am  not  Mrs.  Ran 
dolph's  chauffeur,  nor  yours.  I'm  a  represent 
ative  of  the  Mirror.  I  couldn't  get  at  you  in 
any  other  way.  The  chauffeur  isn't  in  it,  and 
isn't  to  blame.  Don't  you  want  to  make  a  state 
ment  to  the  public  ?  There  are  some  curious 
rumors  afloat.  You  ought  to  correct  them.  If 
you  have  enemies  who  are  lying  about  you,  why 
let  them  do  all  the  talking  ?  Do  you  catch  on  ?" 

I  had  dropped  back  against  the  cushions, 
breathless. 

"What  are  the  rumors  ?"  I  asked. 

"That  you  are  not  the  man  you  pretend  to 
be  —  not  Julian  Randolph.  Hadn't  we  better 
take  this  cross  street  —  it's  not  so  crowded  — 
and  talk  it  over  ?" 

"Yes,"  I  said,  "turn  that  way.  This  is 
startling.  What  else  is  being  reported  ?" 

119 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

The  automobile  crossed  Broadway  and 
headed  toward  the  North  River. 

"The  statement  carries  its  corollary,  that  you 
are  a  deliberate  impostor.  But  I  have  heard 
it  hinted  also  that  you  are  a  madman." 

He  glanced  at  me. 

"Is  it  your  belief  that  I  am  a  madman?"  I 
asked. 

He  grinned,  with  a  twitching  of  his  reddish 
moustache. 

"You  don't  look  it." 

"Then  I  am  either  Julian  Randolph,  or  a 
pretender?" 

"Just  so." 

"Who  is  saying  these  things  about  me?" 

"They  are  in  the  air." 

"Come!"  I  urged.  "If  they  are  in  the  air, 
somebody's  putty-blower  put  them  there.  Who 
is  he?" 

"  If  I  should  say  I  know,  and  tell  you,  I  might 
find  myself  in  a  sling,"  was  his  cautious  answer. 

I  thought  a  moment  before  I  answered,  while 
the  auto-car  swung  with  a  lurch  round  a  group 
of  heedless  children. 

"Unless  you  tell  me  that  I  shall  tell  you 
nothing." 

"  It  has  been  hinted,"  he  said,  still  cautiously, 
"that  these  stories  come  from  the  office  of 

120 


POWDER  IN  MY  PISTOL 

Courtney  Lane,  Mrs.  Randolph's  financial  rep 
resentative.  Mind  you,  I  don't  say  that  this  is 
so;  I  don't  know  anything  about  it.  I  only 
heard  a  rumor  buzzing  about  like  a  bottle-fly 
over  a  bit  of  putridity.  As  a  newspaper  scav 
enger,  serving  up  odorous  morsels  to  a  stench- 
loving  public,  I  was  under  compulsion  to  follow 
the  scented  trail  of  the  bottle-fly.  Perhaps  my 
ears  and  my  nose  deceived  me.  In  any  event, 
to  change  the  metaphor,  I  am  merely  a  siphon 
connecting  the  dear  public  with  its  sources  of 
information,  and  as  such  I  have  neither  thoughts 
nor  feelings.  I  perform  my  mission,  and  that 
is  all." 

He  grinned  again,  with  another  twitching 
and  lifting  of  the  reddish  moustache. 

"What  is  Courtney  Lane  going  to  do  about 
it  ?"  I  asked,  trying  to  hide  the  start  his  words 
had  given  me. 

"Ah!"  he  said,  "I  wish  I  knew.  It  would 
be  good  for  two  columns." 

While  the  automobile  moved  slowly  on  I 
thought  at  railroad  speed.  Why  should  I  not 
make  a  statement  to  the  public  ?  The  flings 
and  innuendoes  of  the  Evening  Moon  had  gone 
unanswered  by  me.  The  Mirror  was  the  more 
reputable  paper.  Still,  was  it  wise  to  recur  to 
the  matter  at  all  ? 

121 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"If  I  should  make  a  statement  you  would 
publish  it  just  as  it  was  given  to  you  ?" 

"Surely." 

"You  may  set  down  then,"  I  said  deliber 
ately,  "that  I  am  Julian  Randolph,  who  after 
an  extended  absence  is  home  again,  attending 
to  business.  You  may  add  it  is  hinted  that  a 
certain  person  who  aspires  to  be  a  prominent 
figure  in  the  financial  world,  and  who  took 
advantage  of  my  absence  to  enrich  himself  at 
my  expense,  is  now  on  the  verge  of  criminal 
prosecution.  Evidence  is  being  gathered  which 
will  expose  his  criminality  and  send  him  to 
prison.  As  soon  as  certain  investigations  are 
completed  the  arrest  is  to  follow." 

"Is  that  all?" 

"It  is  enough,"  I  said. 

"But  about  your  absence,  and  your  mysteri 
ous  return  ?" 

"There  was  nothing  mysterious  connected 
with  either." 

"I  can  say  that?" 

"Yes,  if  you  like." 

"Would  you  mind  stating  where  you  were 
while  away  ?" 

"That  is  not  the  affair  of  the  public!" 

"  But  the  public  has  curiosity." 

"Morbid  curiosity.     If  it  must  have  some- 

122 


POWDER  IN  MY  PISTOL 

thing,  say  that  I  was  hunting  lions  in  Africa 
and  looking  for  one  of  the  mysterious  sources 
of  Lake  Tchad." 

He  grinned  again. 

"You'll  let  me  embellish  the  hunting  part? 
I  suppose  you  found  that  source  of  Lake 
Tchad." 

"As  many  sources  of  Lake  Tchad,  and  as 
much  hunting,  as  you  like." 

He  stopped  the  auto-car  and  began  to  turn  it 
about. 

"What  now?"  I  asked. 

"I'm  going  to  take  you  to  that  garage  over 
there.  I  want  to  get  this  into  the  Mirror  this 
afternoon.  You'll  excuse  me,  I  know;  I've 
barely  time  to  do  it." 

In  front  of  the  garage  he  pulled  off  his 
goggles,  and  leaped  out.  I  saw  his  eyes  behind 
their  crystal-clear  glasses,  light  brown  in  color, 
clear  as  the  glasses  themselves.  He  smiled, 
with  that  characteristic  lifting  of  his  moustache, 
and  extended  his  hand,  standing  beside  the 
right  forward  wheel,  with  one  foot  on  the  curb. 

"I'm  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Randolph,"  he  said 
warmlv.  "I'll  treat  you  fair.  See  the  next  edi 
tion  of  the  Mirror.  And  I  don't  mind  saying  to 
you  now  that  for  this  other  fellow,  Lane,  I  have 
no  earthly  use.  My  reason  goes  back  some 

123 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

months,  and  I  haven't  time  to  tell  it.  But  he 
threw  me  down  —  bit  of  speculation,  you  know; 
little  flyer  in  Wall  Street.  Yes,  he  threw  me 
down  hard.  So  I  was  doubly  anxious  to  see 
you  and  get  your  side  of  the  story." 

He  withdrew  his  hand,  and  the  next  moment 
was  running  to  catch  a  train  of  the  Elevated, 
which  was  coming  into  view  far  up  the  street. 

"Even  a  siphon  has  feelings  after  all,  it 
seems,"  I  thought,  as  I  watched  him.  And  I 
was  pleased  with  myself,  and  with  what  I  had 
done. 


124 


XII 

ASBURY   RAND 

I  LEFT  the  automobile  at  the  garage,  with 
instructions  as  to  where  it  was  to  be  sent. 
I  was  free  now  to  go  whithersoever  I  willed, 
and  I  willed  to  carry  out  the  idea  which  had 
sent  me  forth  into  the  busy  streets.     Less  than 
half  an  hour  later   I  was  in  a  big  Broadway 
building  and  an  elevator  was  shooting  me  sky 
ward  with  frantic  New  York  speed. 

I  got  out  at  the  tenth  floor,  and  soon  found 
the  room  I  sought.  On  the  door  was  this  office 
card: 

ASBURY   RAND 
PRIVATE  DETECTIVE 

I  knocked  and  was  admitted. 

Mr.  Rand  sat  alone,  pondering  by  a  window, 
smoking  a  thick,  black  cigar.  The  office  boy 
who  admitted  me  had  vanished,  like  the  imp 
of  the  magician;  I  hardly  knew  where  he  had 
gone.  But  I  was  prepared  for  strange  disap 
pearances,  secret  doors,  sliding  panels,  human 

125 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

eyes  staring  from  the  eyes  of  the  pictures  on  the 
walls;  if  upon  my  entrance  Mr.  Rand's  chair 
had  dropped  him  through  the  floor  I  was  ready 
not  to  be  too  much  astonished.  For  was  not 
this  a  detective's  office,  and  had  I  not  read 
Sherlock  Holmes,  and  Gaboriau,  and  Edgar 
Allan  Poe  ?  But  Mr.  Rand  sat  quietly  in  his 
chair,  and  the  pieces  of  office  furniture  seemed 
not  disposed  to  turn  somersaults  and  stand 
upon  their  several  heads. 

In  another  minute  I  was  telling  my  story  (so 
much  of  it  as  I  wished  to  tell),  lying  my  way 
through  with  the  perspiring  courage  of  a  ma 
chete  wielder  in  a  tropical  jungle.  To  better  his 
hearing,  he  laid  his  cigar  on  the  window  ledge. 

"Yes,  yes,"  he  said  at  intervals,  as  I  plunged 
on. 

"You  will  take  up  chis  case  ?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,  certainly;  glad  to  do  so." 

"And  you'll  find  the  proof  I  want  —  that 
Courtney  Lane  has  been  swindling  Mrs.  Ran 
dolph;  that  is,  if  such  proof  is  to  be  had,  of 
which  I  am  confident?" 

"Assuredly.  If  there  are  such  proofs  we'll 
get  them." 

He  rubbed  his  palms  together  and  beamed  on 
me  when  I  was  through.  It  was  his  turn  to  ask 
questions  and  mine  to  give  answers. 

126 


ASBURY  RAND 

"When  will  you  begin?"  I  queried,  after  he 
had  ceased  to  question  me. 

"To-day  —  at  once." 

I  thought  of  my  limp  pocketbook,  and  feared 
he  would  ask  a  retainer,  but  he  did  not. 

To  prove  that  he  valued  the  commission  I 
intrusted  to  him  he  touched  a  bell.  A  quick 
young  man  jerked  into  the  room  —  he  seemed 
to  come  out  of  the  wall;  but  there  was  a  door 
which  I  had  not  observed,  and  I  had  no  doubt 
he  had  been  behind  that  door  listening.  How 
ever,  this  heightened  my  opinion  of  the  detec 
tive  abilities  of  Mr.  Asbury  Rand.  I  looked  at 
the  door  to  ascertain  if  any  little  peep-holes 
were  bored  in  it,  but  saw  none. 

"Jarvis,"  said  Rand,  giving  him  a  pencilled 
slip  of  paper,  "take  this  to  Jones,  and  tell  him 
I  must  see  him  at  once  on  a  case  of  importance. 
If  he  is  on  anything  just  now,  tell  him  to  turn 
it  over  to  Haney." 

The  young  man  jerked  out  of  the  room,  van 
ishing  through  that  door. 

"Jones  is  my  most  reliable  man,"  Rand  ex 
plained.  "I'll  put  him  on  this  case  immediately." 

As  I  left  Rand's  office,  I  reflected  with  in 
creasing  confidence  that  I  had  started  the 
wheels  of  the  Juggernaut  car  that  would 
eventually  crush  Courtney  Lane. 

127 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

Mrs.  Randolph  was  still  out  when  I  got  back, 
but  I  encountered  Miss  Hansborough.  Fault 
lessly  attired,  the  nut-brown  maid  had  just 
come  in  from  the  street.  She  looked  at  me  in 
a  strange  way,  apparently  aware  that  I  had  been 
absent  from  the  house. 

"I  have  taken  your  advice,"  I  said.  "I  have 
shown  the  reporters  that  there  is  no  powder  in 
their  pistols  —  but  that  there  is  in  mine!" 

She  stared  an  instant,  then  recalled  her  words 
and  comprehended. 

"Tell  me  about  it." 

Her  brown  eyes  smiled  invitingly,  and  she 
moved  toward  the  sitting  room. 

"What  have  you  done,  you  reckless  boy  ?"  she 
demanded  when  we  were  in  the  room  together. 

"You  know  what  you  advised  ?" 

"Yes,  I  remember  something." 

"I  did  just  that.  You  read  that  slanderous 
report  in  the  Evening  Moon.  Courtney  Lane 
inspired  it.  I  have  just  denied  it,  to  a  reporter 
of  the  Mirror;  and  have  said,  in  addition,  that 
investigations  are  being  made  which  will  lead 
to  the  arrest  of  a  certain  man  who  has  been  mis 
applying  my  funds  in  my  absence.  Courtney 
Lane  will  know  who  that  man  is." 

Miss  Hansborough  was  a  girl  not  easily 
startled,  but  she  was  startled  now. 

128 


ASBURY  RAND 

"Why,  Julian!"  she  protested.  "Don't  you 
think  that  was  rather  —  er  —  unwise  ?  Mr. 
Lane  has  done  nothing  out  of  the  way,  really. 
Kitty  and  I  are  under  many  obligations  to  him. 
I  hope  you  didn't  mention  his  name?" 

"His  name  will  not  appear  in  the  Mirror"  I 
assured  her. 

"Oh,  I  hope  not!" 

"You  don't  believe  Lane  has  been  swindling 
your  sister  —  and  you  ?" 

"Certainly  not.     The  idea  is  preposterous." 

In  vain  I  tried  to  show  her  that  it  was  any 
thing  but  preposterous. 

When  Mrs.  Randolph  arrived,  she  bore  a 
copy  of  the  Mirror,  and  had  seen  that  "inter 
view."  Her  face  was  flushed  to  a  deep  pink. 
I  felt  guilty  when  I  saw  her  with  that  news 
paper  in  her  hand.  Yet  I  still  could  admire  her 
beauty,  for  in  the  light  gray  street  dress  she 
wore  she  was  very  attractive,  in  spite  of  that 
flush. 

"Julian,"  she  said,  having  come  straight  into 
the  sitting  room,  where  I  still  lingered  with  Miss 
Hansborough,  "did  you  say  these  things  to  a 
reporter?" 

She  could  not  believe  I  had  said  anything  of 
the  kind,  and  expected  me  to  deny  it. 

"Yes,"   I    admitted,    "I   made  those   state- 

129 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

ments;  that  is,  I  suppose  I  did.  Let  me  see 
what  is  there." 

The  reporter  had  been  fair;  the  interview, 
though  much  elaborated,  had  my  main  points 
unchanged.  The  lion  hunting  and  the  Lake 
Tchad  explorations  were  fine  bits  of  romancing. 

"Oh,  well!"  (she  laughed,  and  threw  the 
offending  Mirror  into  a  chair,)  "I  thought  it  had 
been  made  up  out  of  whole  cloth,  by  the  re 
porter." 

Her  blue  eyes  met  the  brown  eyes  of  her 
sister  with  an  understanding  glance.  (I  knew 
they  would  talk  the  whole  thing  over  together 
later.)  And  she  changed  the  subject. 

Another  side  of  her  character  was  revealed  to 
me.  Out  of  the  nebulous  blur  of  impressions, 
of  which  at  first  her  piquant  beauty  and  her 
sapphire  eyes  had  been  all  predominant,  I  was 
gaining  other  glimpses;  I  was  beginning  to 
know  her,  and  yet  was  made  to  feel  that  I  could 
never  know  her  completely.  Now  she  was  the 
philosopher.  She  was  able  to  accept  me  and 
all  my  supposed  foibles  with  that  rare  compla 
cency  which  is  the  peculiar  possession  of  a 
philosophical  nature  and  can  never  be  acquired. 


130 


XIII 

THE   JOINT   IN   MY  ARMOR 

HARVARD  had  played  Princeton,  at  Prince 
ton;  and  Benson,  on  the  way  back  to  Cam 
bridge,  had  stopped  off  between  trains, 
in  New  York,  with  the  permission  of  his  captain. 
He  came  at  my  request  to  my  rooms,  where  I 
sought  vainly  for  a  good  beginning  for  what 
I  wanted  to  say.  It  is  sometimes  easier  to  open 
a  jack-pot  or  a  can  of  clams  than  it  is  to  open  a 
conversation. 

"Can't  you  stay  in  New  York  a  few  hours 
longer?"  I  begged  at  length.  "I  need  you." 

He  gave  me  a  sharp  look. 

"I  have  had  a  talk  with  Courtney  Lane,"  I 
went  on,  bluntly;  "a  talk  which  he  sought,  with 
a  newspaper  man  standing  by;  and  he  threat 
ened  me." 

"Threatened  you  ?" 

His  gray  eyes  widened  in  astonishment. 

I  detailed  what  had  been  said  by  Lane  at  the 
reception,  in  the  light  in  which  I  wished  him  to 
see  it.  I  could  not  tell  him  what  I  really  feared 
and  believed;  that  would  have  been  to  confess 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

that  I  was  not  Julian  Randolph.  My  story 
amazed  him,  of  course. 

"You  observe  the  position  I'm  in  ?" 

"Yes,  I  see,"  he  admitted.  "But  he'd  never 
dare  do  it." 

"Lane  is  enriching  himself  at  her  expense," 
I  declared,  "and  I  want  you  to  get  proof  of  it 
for  me.  Find  out  who  his  brokers  are,  and 
you'll  be  striking  the  right  trail." 

He  heard  me  through  almost  incredulously. 

"I'd  be  willing  to  do  anything  possible  to 
accommodate  you,"  he  declared;  and  then  he 
began  to  explain. 

It  was  that  confounded  ball  game  between 
Harvard  and  Yale,  and  the  rigid  training  rules, 
which  it  seems  are  like  the  laws  of  the  Medes 
and  Persians. 

"I'm  here  on  sufferance,  you  know,  and  for  a 
very  short  time  only.  A  man  on  the  team  and 
in  training  has  to  stay  right  with  the  team,  and 
eat  at  the  training  table,  and  all  that;  otherwise 
he  is  dropped.  So,  you  see!" 

"But,"  I  urged,  "you  can  get  this  informa 
tion  for  me  without  much  delay.  Perhaps  you 
know  some  one  in  New  York,  connected  with 
the  Stock  Exchange,  to  whom  you  can  go  ?" 

He  thought  a  moment. 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I  do  know  such  a  man;  an 

132 


THE  JOINT  IN  MY  ARMOR 

old  friend  of  our  family.  It's  after  office  hours, 
but  I  can  probably  see  him  at  his  home.  I'll 
do  that  much  for  you,  and  run  the  risk." 

Shortly  after  Benson's  hurried  departure  in 
search  of  information,  I  encountered  Mrs.  Ran 
dolph.  Her  face  was  so  bright,  so  hopeful,  so 
happy  that,  if  anything  could  have  done  so,  a 
look  into  it  would  have  quite  driven  away  my 
uneasy  fears. 

"Julian,"  she  announced,  "I've  had  the 
Idler  put  in  commission,  and  she  is  now  in  the 
East  River,  with  a  captain  and  full  crew. 
The  orders  were  given  immediately  after  Doc 
tor  Thompson  called  on  you,  though  I  didn't 
tell  you  then.  It  seems  to  me  I  can't  wait  to 
try  her." 

My  heart  gave  a  bound. 

"We'll  go  aboard  at  once,"  I  cried,  with  pre 
tended  gayety,  "and  we'll  sail  the  seas  over. 
We'll  be  Jasons,  and  hunt  for  the  Golden  Fleece 
of  happiness." 

"It  is  here,"  she  said  simply. 

Yet  her  azure  eyes  clouded  a  little.  Fore 
boding  still  lurked  in  some  corner  of  her  loving 
heart. 

"Yes,  I'm  sure  it  is,"  I  agreed. 

She  beamed  on  me.  I  was  getting  better 
rapidly,  was  her  thought;  I  was  ready  to  take 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

this  second  part  of  Doctor  Thompson's  pre 
scription,  even  though  I  had  thrown  his  medi 
cine  out  of  the  window. 

Oh,  the  love  and  confidence  of  women;  and 
the  despicable  deceit  of  men!  What  would  men 
do  if  it  were  not  for  this  love  and  confidence  ? 
They  would  do  worse  than  "Hottentot,"  and 
in  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time.  I  feel 
sure  that  Robinson  Crusoe  must  have  been  a 
miserable  specimen,  in  spite  of  the  glamour 
thrown  round  him  by  the  cunning  pen  of  his 
biographer.  Men  just  couldn't  stand  it. 

Benson  returned  without  information.  But 
almost  at  the  same  moment  a  sealed  note  from 
my  detective  startled  me.  It  stated  that  Lane 
was  about  to  move  to  have  me  examined  by  alien 
ists  for  supposed  insanity,  with  the  purpose  of 
committing  me  to  a  sanitarium.  Thus  he  had 
met  my  thrust  and  struck  back  with  staggering 
promptness. 

I  saw  that  he  could  trap  me,  and  would  do 
so.  My  proofs  of  his  financial  iniquity  had  not 
been  gathered.  I  did  not  fear  the  alienists  so 
much  as  I  feared  what  might  be  disclosed  — 
that  I  was  not  Julian  Randolph.  Yet  with  the 
alienists  there  was  no  telling  what  might 
happen.  Men  and  women  have  been  impris 
oned  for  supposed  mental  afflictions  who  were 

"34 


THE  JOINT  IN  MY  ARMOR 

saner  than  the  stupid  doctors  who  examined 
them  or  the  arrogant  judges  who  pronounced 
them  mentally  unsound. 

At  dinner  Benson  tried  to  be  gay,  and  made 
a  failure  of  it.  I  saw  that  there  was  trouble 
between  him  and  Miss  Hansborough.  I  didn't 
know  it  until  long  afterward,  but  the  coolness 
observable  was  occasioned  by  some  considera 
tions  concerning  myself.  Benson  intensely  and 
loyally  desired  to  return  at  once  to  Harvard; 
Miss  Hansborough  and  her  sister  had  what  they 
assumed  to  be  potent  reasons  why  he  should  not, 
even  though  his  failure  to  do  so  might  wrench 
or  break  his  relations  with  the  Harvard  nine. 
He  was  remaining,  grimly  and  under  protest, 
fearing  the  crash  of  the  Harvard  guillotine.  A 
man  will  do  many  things  for  the  woman  he 
loves,  but  unless  he  does  them  with  abounding 
cheerfulness  that  woman  is  likely  to  under 
value  his  sacrifices. 

Though  I  am  sure  Benson  didn't  know 
whether  he  ate  clams  or  oysters,  Miss  Hans- 
borough  affected  not  to  notice  it.  Her  smile 
was  serene  and  enigmatical;  her  talk  was  far 
away,  about  somebody  in  Newport,  and  a  cer 
tain  dance  at  Bar  Harbor  and  what  the  women 
wore.  She  appeared  to  be  properly  interested 
as  she  recalled  these  things,  but  certainly  no 

135 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

one  else  was.  I  am  convinced  that  my  own 
manners  were  hopelessly  funereal.  Mrs.  Ran 
dolph  struggled  vainly  with  the  burden  thus 
imposed  on  her. 

But  under  this  cloud  of  gloom,  having  reached 
my  decision,  I  was  laying  my  plans.  There  is 
an  old  saw,  and  it  needs  no  new  teeth,  which 
says  that  discretion  is  the  better  part  of  valor. 
I  was  resolved  to  be  discreet,  and  run  away.  I 
found  my  opportunity  when  Mrs.  Randolph 
spoke  again  of  the  Idler. 

"Why  can't  we  get  ready  for  a  short  voyage 
at  once  ?"  I  urged. 

I  feared  all  would  see  the  eager  flame  in  my 
face. 

"It  would  do  you  good,"  she  agreed.  "Doc 
tor  Thompson"  (blessings  on  his  gray  head!  I 
resolved  never  to  belittle  him  again)  "urged  it, 
you  know.  We  could  take  Jack  to  Boston." 

"We  might  run  up  to  Newport,"  said  Miss 
Hansborough  sweetly. 

But  she  did  not  look  at  Benson.  If  he  went 
to  the  Sahara,  and  rode  camels,  was  nothing  to 
her,  apparently.  How  can  so  charming  a  girl 
do  such  things  ?  It  puzzles  me.  Benson  was 
a  fine  fellow. 

"Just  the  thing!"  I  cried.  "We'll  go  to 
Newport." 

136 


THE  JOINT  IN  MY  ARMOR 

I  was  determined,  once  we  were  under  way, 
that  we  would  go  much  farther  in  the  Idler 
than  Newport. 

"Jack  could  take  the  train  there  for  Cam 
bridge,"  Miss  Hansborough  added,  sticking  the 
knife  under  his  fifth  rib  as  coolly  as  an  Italian 
duellist.  "He  has  been  so  anxious  to  get  back 
to  Harvard,  you  know.  It  would  be  almost 
as  quick  as  going  by  train  to-morrow  from 
here." 

"That's  true  enough,"  I  agreed. 

I  would  have  agreed  to  anything  that  led  my 
way.  Benson  glanced  at  me  reproachfully. 
But,  Heavens,  it  was  not  I  who  was  trying  to 
destroy  his  happiness! 

Mrs.  Randolph's  spirits  had  risen  percep 
tibly;  and  we  all  pretended  to  be  much  inter 
ested,  and  very  happy.  So  we  spent  the  evening 
talking  of  the  Idler,  of  Newport,  and  possible 
destinations.  Such  conversation  is  not  difficult, 
and  I  got  through  it  easily. 

When  Benson,  though  he  had  remained  so 
much  longer  than  he  felt  he  ought,  hurried  to 
his  hotel,  it  was  with  the  intention  of  sending 
a  telegram  to  Cambridge,  and  remaining  in 
New  York  until  some  time  the  next  day. 

But  in  the  morning  he  received  a  message 
that  was  like  a  slap  in  the  face.  It  was  from 

137 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

his  captain,  informing  him  curtly  that  he  could 
stay  in  New  York  as  much  as  he  liked,  as  he 
no  longer  had  a  place  on  the  nine. 

This  bit  of  news,  startling  in  its  unexpected 
ness  (though  it  ought  to  have  been  anticipated), 
we  did  not  receive  at  the  house  until  Benson, 
distressed  and  shaken,  arrived  with  it  himself. 

We  had  been  discussing  this  awhile,  when  I 
chanced  to  pass  into  the  hall,  and  saw  there 
the  servant  who  had  delivered  to  me  surrep 
titiously  that  note  of  warning  from  Asbury 
Rand.  He  beckoned,  and  I  was  sure  he  had 
another  note  from  my  shrewd  detective.  I  was 
correct  in  this.  He  placed  it  in  my  hand,  and 
chuckled  slyly  as  I  paid  him  for  this  act  of 
treachery  to  his  mistress.  The  note  repeated 
and  confirmed  the  statement  that  Courtney  Lane 
was  on  the  point  of  taking  steps  to  have  me 
examined  by  alienists. 

Mrs.  Randolph  came  upon  me  while  I  was 
reading  this. 

"Something  for  me  to  see?"  she  asked, 
searching  my  pale  face. 

"No!"  I  answered  hoarsely.  "It  is  nothing; 
nothing!" 

But  I  was  now  in  a  panic,  and  ready  for 
instant  flight. 

The  message  from  Benson's  captain  caused 

138 


THE  JOINT  IN  MY  ARMOR 

a  readjustment  of  our  plans,  in  spite  of  my 
protests.  The  impossibility  of  sailing  until  the 
next  day  was  brought  forward,  and  backed  with 
proofs.  With  a  continually-increasing  uneasi 
ness,  which  Mrs.  Randolph  must  have  noticed, 
I  was  forced  to  surrender. 

One  thing  I  observed,  and  failed  to  under 
stand.  Benson,  who  had  been  for  rushing  to 
Cambridge  in  the  hope  of  mending  matters  for 
himself  there,  ceased  to  speak  of  it  with  anxiety, 
after  a  talk  with  Miss  Hansborough. 

With  the  next  morning,  though  I  arose  early 
and  tried  to  hurry  the  start,  vexatious  delays 
came.  There  was  much  telephoning  on  the 
part  of  Mrs.  Randolph  and  Miss  Hansborough. 
In  the  midst  of  this,  word  came  that  the  yacht 
needed  more  coal. 

I  found  time  to  call  up  Asbury  Rand  and 
urge  him  to  haste  and  diligence;  I  desired,  if 
cornered,  to  have  some  bomb  of  evidence  to 
hurl  at  the  head  of  Courtney  Lane.  Rand 
declared  that  his  man  Jones  was  pushing  the 
investigation  with  all  speed,  and  promised  to 
report  discoveries  as  soon  as  they  were  made. 
I  said  nothing  to  him  of  my  intention  of  imme 
diately  leaving  New  York. 

My  impatience  grew  feverish  as  the  noon 
hour  came  and  went.  Bundles  and  boxes  were 

139 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

pouring  in  from  everywhere,  and  pouring  out 
again  down  to  the  Idler. 

It  was  four  o'clock,  and  I  was  standing  by 
the  library  windows,  having  taken  my  position 
there  two  hours  before  in  anticipation  of  the 
coming  of  an  officer  to  arrest  me,  when  Mrs. 
Randolph,  arrayed  in  a  gray  travelling  dress, 
entered,  flushed,  but  triumphant.  She  and 
Jerome  had  been  assisting  the  distracted  maid. 

"Thank  Heaven,  that  last  trunk  is  packed!" 

"How  long  do  we  have  to  wait  yet  ?"  I  asked, 
with  an  ear  trained  on  the  street  entrance. 

"We  are  almost  ready  now,  dear." 

Jerome  came  in,  hurried,  yet  deferential. 

"Shall  I  have  the  chauffeur  bring  the  auto 
round  again  ?"  he  asked  of  her. 

"Yes,  Jerome,"  she  answered;  "we're  almost 
ready  now.  Margaret"  (to  the  nut-brown  maid 
who  swished  past  the  door),  "you're  ready  now, 
aren't  you  ?" 

"In  just  a  minute,"  came  back  the  answer. 

"Jerome"  (this  from  Mrs.  Randolph), 
"  phone  to  the  wharf  and  see  if  that  coal  is  all 
on  board.  Tell  them  we're  coming  now." 

A  few  minutes  later  the  big  touring  car 
stormed  up  to  the  curb.  Yet  it  was  nearly  five 
o'clock  when  we  entered  it. 

"Let  her  go!"  I  said  to  the  chauffeur  as  soon 

140 


THE  JOINT  IN  MY  ARMOR 

as  we  were  seated.  I  couldn't  resist  the  slang; 
I  wanted  to  fly,  for  in  every  man  approaching  I 
fancied  I  saw  an  officer.  My  anxiety  was  so 
apparent  that  it  made  Mrs.  Randolph  anxious 
for  me,  and  she  was  ready  to  abet  me  in  my 
desire  for  haste. 

We  shot  away  from  the  house  and  down  the 
avenue  with  such  speed  that  soon  I  was  anxious 
in  another  direction  —  lest  we  should  be  in 
trouble  for  over-speeding. 

When  the  river  burst  on  our  vision,  with  all 
the  water  craft  —  ferry-boats,  tugs,  yachts  — 
more  than  half  of  them,  it  seemed  to  me, 
screeching  whistles,  and  I  beheld  the  shining 
white  hull  of  the  Idler  (Mrs.  Randolph  pointed 
her  out  to  me),  I  did  not  try  to  hide  my 
delight. 

"Oh,  this  is  great!" 

I  waved  my  hat. 

Mrs.  Randolph's  eyes  glistened. 

"Do  you  like  it?" 

"Like  it?"  (In  that  moment  I  forgave  her 
and  her  sister  for  all  our  trying  delays.)  "It  is 
indescribably  beautiful." 

"You  always  enjoyed  our  little  trips  on  the 
Idler." 

"This  will  be  the  most  enjoyable  of  all,"  I 
declared. 

141 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

At  the  wharf  a  boat  awaited  us,  manned  by 
bronzed,  seaman-like  fellows  in  white  duck, 
their  oars  up-ended.  A  little  coxswain  stood 
in  the  stern-sheets  touching  his  cap. 

Miss  Hansborough  was  about  to  let  herself 
be  handed  down  first  into  the  boat,  but  stopped, 
hesitating  and  coloring. 

"Oh,  dear!"  she  cried,  biting  her  lip  in  vexa 
tion.  "After  all,  I've  forgotten  that  jacket ! "  (She 
looked  at  Mrs.  Randolph.)  "  Lizette,  or  Jerome, 
or  some  one,  will  just  have  to  go  back  for  it." 

I  had  held  in  a  long  time,  and  here  was  more 
delay;  the  red  of  vexation  showed  in  my  face. 
Mrs.  Randolph  saw  it  and  suggested  the  shops 
of  Newport.  But  no,  Miss  Hansborough  must 
have  that  jacket;  none  other  would  do.  So 
Jerome,  who  was  already  aboard  the  yacht,  had 
to  be  brought  ashore,  and  posted  back  to  the 
house  in  a  cab. 

As  we  were  rowed  out  to  the  Idler  I  watched 
the  receding  shore  with  apprehension. 

"She  is  a  dream!"  I  said,  as  a  wave  lifted  the 
yacht  and  showed  the  sea-green  paint  below 
the  water  line.  But  I  was  thinking  of  Court 
ney  Lane  and  possible  officers. 

The  beauty  and  spaciousness  of  the  Idler 
astonished  and  gratified  me.  I  did  not  spend 
much  time  in  looking  about,  however,  but 

142 


THE  JOINT  IN  MY  ARMOR 

watched  the  shore  and  the  river.  The  auto-car 
had  been  run  upon  a  float  and  was  being  towed 
out,  to  be  hoisted  aboard.  This  was  trouble 
some  and  consumed  time. 

Jack  Benson  arrived  and  joined  Miss  Hans- 
borough.  Though  I  knew  he  was  anxious  and 
disquieted,  he  hid  it  well.  They  came  where  I 
stood  with  Mrs.  Randolph  and  with  us  looked 
over  the  rail.  With  the  exception  of  our  little 
group  every  one  was  hurrying.  None  guessed 
of  course  my  burning  impatience;  they  hurried 
because  they  had  been  ordered  to  do  so.  Yet 
to  me  even  this  haste  was  snail-like.  There  is 
no  harder  task  than  to  smile  and  talk  of  incon 
sequential  things  at  such  a  time. 

The  big  Mercedes  had  been  hoisted  aboard, 
lashed,  and  covered  with  canvas,  on  the  for 
ward  deck,  before  Jerome  appeared.  He  was 
running  as  soon  as  he  left  his  cab,  and  when 
he  did  not  find  a  yacht's  boat  awaiting  him  he 
jumped  into  a  disreputable  shell  that  had  been 
clinging  like  a  brown  barnacle  to  the  wharf, 
and  was  rowed  off  to  the  Idler  in  that.  I  had  a 
feeling  that  his  haste  was  portentous,  and  I  was 
first  to  meet  him  at  the  Idler  s  rail,  giving  him 
my  hand  to  assist  him  aboard.  His  face  was 
flushed. 

"What  is  it,  Jerome  ?"  I  said. 

H3 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"I  didn't  just  understand  it,"  he  answered  in 
an  undertone;  "but  before  I  left  the  house  an 
officer  came  with  papers  for  you,  sir.  He  was 
put  out  because  you  were  gone  and  the  house 
was  being  closed.  He  asked  questions,  and 
demanded  to  know  where  you  were.  I  lied  to 
him,  sir  —  I  said  I  didn't  know.  But  I  think 
he  followed  me." 

I  pressed  his  hand. 

"  Keep  still  about  —  don't  mention  it  to  any 
one;  I  don't  understand  it,  myself." 

He  glanced  over  his  shoulder. 

O 

"I  —  I  thought  he  meant  to  arrest  you,  sir." 

"I've  done  nothing  to  warrant  arrest,"  I  said. 

"No,  sir;  of  course  not,  sir;  but — " 

"No  more  now,  Jerome,"  I  warned,  for  the 
women  were  advancing. 

I  turned,  to  meet  Mrs.  Randolph's  pleased 
smile.  Behind  them  —  some  distance  behind 
—  trailed  Jack  Benson,  trying  to  take  a  proper 
interest  in  New  York's  wonderful  water-front, 
as  viewed  from  the  East  River. 

Miss  Hansborough  took  from  Jerome  the 
bundle  which  represented  her  jacket. 

"We're  ready  to  start,  I  believe,"  I  said. 

"You're  the  commander  now,  Julian,"  said 
Mrs.  Randolph.  "Here  comes  the  captain  for 
his  orders." 

144 


THE  JOINT  IN  MY  ARMOR 

Captain  John  Quinby,  sunburnt  and  nauti 
cal,  came  up,  lifting  his  white  cap. 

"We  want  to  get  under  way  at  once,  Cap 
tain,"  I  said.  "It's  late"  (I  looked  at  my 
watch).  "We'd  like  to  be  well  out  before 
night." 

Though  my  commands  lacked  the  nautical 
salt  they  were  comprehensible. 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  answered,  again  touching  his 
cap.  The  declining  sun  glinted  on  its  gold 
braid. 

According  to  what  I  recalled  of  all  I  had  read 
he  should  have  said,  "Aye,  aye,  sir!"  in  a  thick, 
foggy,  groggy  voice,  and  hitched  his  trousers; 
but  he  didn't.  Nor  did  he  cast  his  weather 
eye  at  the  clouds.  But  he  put  the  Idler  under 
way  at  once,  which  was  the  thing  I  wanted; 
and  we  were  soon  steaming  down  the  East 
River. 

Bedloe's  Island  was  ahead,  on  the  port  bow, 
and  the  Brooklyn  bridge  was  spider-webbing 
the  stream  behind,  when  I  observed  that  a  tug 
had  shot  out  into  the  river  and  was  following 
hard  after  us.  Benson  was  standing  with  me 
on  the  after  deck;  Mrs.  Randolph  and  Miss 
Hansborough  had  just  left  my  side.  The  cap 
tain  came  up  to  me,  touching  his  cap  respect 
fully. 

145 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"She  is  following  us,  Mr.  Randolph,"  he 
announced,  waving  his  hand  significantly. 
"She  signalled  just  now,  and  wants  to  speak  to 
us.  Shall  we  let  her  come  alongside?" 

Then  the  flag  I  had  noticed  before  fluttered 
and  dipped  again  and  a  rocket  flashed  into  the 
evening  sky. 

I  knew  well  what  it  meant.  Courtney  Lane 
had  discovered  that  I  was  trying  to  give  him 
the  slip,  and  he  was  resolved  to  prevent  it. 


XIV 

PURSUED 

MRS.  RANDOLPH  had  come  on  deck 
again,  clad  in  cool  blue  linen,  that 
was  wonderfully  becoming.  She  carried 
her  yachting  cap  in  her  hand,  and  the  breeze 
blew  her  brown  hair  about  her  eyes.  Behind 
her,  head  and  shoulders  emerging  from  below, 
came  the  nut-brown  maid  in  summery  white. 
Jack  Benson  regarded  the  white  vision  hun 
grily. 

Having  called  my  attention  to  the  pursuing 
tug  and  its  signals,  Captain  Quinby  waited  for 
me  to  speak.  I  was  sure  the  tug  meant  to 
overhaul  us  before  we  got  out  to  sea,  and  that 
on  her  decks  was  not  only  the  officer  who  had 
failed  to  find  me  at  the  house  in  Fifth  Avenue, 
but  Courtney  Lane  as  well.  Lane's  daring  and 
persistence  amazed  and  angered  me. 

I  answered  Captain  Quinby's  question  by 
requesting  the  use  of  the  marine  glasses  he  car 
ried  in  his  hand.  Then  I  scanned  the  deck  of 
the  tug,  which  lay  low  in  the  water  like  a  great 
turtle.  The  smoke  from  her  funnel  obscured 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

her  deck,  but  I  saw  a  group  of  three  men,  one 
of  whom  I  was  sure  was  Lane. 

"Benson,"  I  said  quietly,  "see  if  you  can  get 
the  women  to  go  below." 

He  hesitated,  glancing  at  the  girl  in  white, 
who  had  emerged  full  length  above  the  com 
panion-way. 

"At  least,"  I  added  desperately,  "draw  their 
attention  from  that  tug!" 

But  the  mischief  was  done;  they  had  already 
seen  the  tug. 

"Why,  it  seems  to  be  following  us!"  I  heard 
Miss  Hansborough  say  in  a  tone  of  surprise. 

I  had  not  answered  the  captain. 

"Ahead  at  full  speed!"  I  ordered. 

He  stared. 

"Not  going  to  answer  their  signal  ?" 

"No!"  My  tone  was  sharp.  "I  shall  ignore 
them.  Ahead,  at  full  speed." 

Benson  was  standing  in  awkward  uncer 
tainty,  his  hands  in  the  pockets  of  his  gray 
flannel  outing  coat.  His  face  looked  troubled. 
He  had  not  started  toward  the  women.  I 
moved  toward  them  myself  now. 

"Why  is  that  tug  following  us  ?"  Mrs.  Ran 
dolph  asked. 

I  took  her  arm  and  walked  with  her  toward 
the  rail. 

148 


PURSUED 

"You  recall  that  letter  you  saw  me  reading  ?" 
I  said.  "I  didn't  show  it  to  you,  but  will  later. 
There  is  a  man  in  New  York  who  has  threat 
ened  to  arrest  me.  He  has  chartered  that  tug 
I  am  sure,  and  is  trying  to  overhaul  the  yacht. 
I  don't  intend  to  let  him." 

She  looked  straight  into  my  eyes,  startled, 
and  her  face  paled.  A  strand  of  hair  blew  into 
her  face  and  she  brushed  it  away. 

"You  are  sure  ?"  she  said,  as  if  dazed. 

"Quite  sure." 

"But  I  don't  understand  it;  I  don't — " 

"  I  will  explain  it  later.  Just  now  I  intend  not 
to  be  taken.  You  are  willing  to  trust  me  a  little?" 

I  thought  she  hesitated,  but  when  she  an 
swered  her  words  were  all  that  I  could  desire. 

"Trust  you,  Julian  ?  I  would  trust  you  with 
my  life." 

Yet  it  seemed  lip-service;  she  still  looked 
startled  and  doubtful,  and  she  had  grown  very 
pale.  As  for  myself  I  was  filled  with  self-con 
tempt,  yet  was  desperately  resolved  to  have  my 
way. 

I  laughed  to  dispel  her  fears,  and  saw  that 
my  manner  and  that  false  laugh  alarmed  her. 
She  looked  at  me  steadily,  and  pushed  back  the 
hair  that  the  persistent  wind  tumbled  into  her 
eyes.  Then  she  stared  at  the  tug. 

149 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"Kitty,"  I  said,  using  the  tone  of  endear 
ment,  "all  I  ask  is  that  for  a  little  while  you 
will  trust  me.  I  know  just  what  I  am  doing;  I 
am  not  crazy,  nor  in  danger  of  it.  But  I  don't 
intend  that  tug  shall  overhaul  the  Idler,  if  I  can 
help  it." 

Benson  had  joined  Miss  Hansborough,  for 
which  I  thanked  him,  and  was  saying  some 
thing  to  her  in  low  tones.  The  captain  had 
gone  away,  to  jangle  signals  to  the  engine 
room.  The  yacht's  funnel  began  to  pour  out  a 
cloud  of  smoke  as  dense  as  that  from  the  tug, 
and  she  was  already  increasing  her  speed. 

I  studied  the  face  of  Mrs.  Randolph  while 
she  looked  at  the  tug.  It  was  troubled  and 
uncertain.  At  length  she  turned  to  me. 

"If  only  I  understood  the  situation  better?" 

"It  is  Courtney  Lane,"  I  confessed.  "You 
saw  the  interview  I  gave  to  the  Mirror.  I  know 
he  has  been  swindling  you,  and  I  said  as  much 
in  that  interview.  He  understood  it;  and  this 
is  how  he  hits  back.  He  sent  an  officer  to  the 
house  while  Jerome  was  there;  it  is  his  inten 
tion  to  have  me  thrown  into  a  sanitarium  as  a 
madman,  or  placed  under  arrest  as  an  impostor. 
I  don't  intend  to  give  him  the  opportunity." 

She  clutched  the  rail  with  a  spasmodic  grip. 
I  laid  my  hand  gently  on  her  shoulder;  and  a 

'5° 


PURSUED 

flame  of  love  and  tenderness  ran  through  me 
as  I  felt  its  warmth  through  the  cool -looking 
blue  linen  and  saw  the  rounded  throat  and  the 
sudden  heaving  of  her  bosom. 

"Julian,  you  are  mistaken!"  she  said. 

"Look  at  me!"  I  urged. 

She  looked  —  her  blue  eyes  big  and  bright. 
The  pallor  was  leaving  her  face  and  hectic 
spots  glowed  in  her  cheeks. 

"Do  I  look  like  a  madman?  I  am  as  sane 
as  you  are;  as  sane  as  Miss  Hansborough, 
or  Jack  Benson.  I  know  what  I  know.  It 
startles  you,  yet  it  is  true.  If  that  tug  over 
hauls  us  you  will  know  also  that  it  is  true.  I 
can  defeat  Courtney  Lane,  and  fully  expect  and 
intend  to.  But  now  I  should  be  placed  at  such 
a  disadvantage  that  my  case  might  be  rendered 
hopeless.  I  am  not  at  present  ready,  and  he  is 
trying  to  take  advantage  of  my  unreadiness.  A 
week  from  now,  even  to-morrow  perhaps,  I  shall 
be  ready  for  whatever  he  attempts;  and  then  I 
shall  defy  him,  and  overwhelm  him." 

We  were  well  down  toward  Staten  Island, 
and  were  already  beginning  to  feel  the  swell  of 
the  more  open  water  beyond.  The  breeze  had 
quickened  and  was  cool  and  salt.  The  plung 
ing  yacht  cut  into  the  waves  and  threw  up  a 
spray  that  glittered  in  the  light  of  the  dying  sun. 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

I  studied  the  face  of  the  woman  who  stood 
troubled  and  perplexed  beside  me.  She  stead 
ied  herself,  clinging  to  the  rail  as  the  Idler  rolled 
under  us,  and  returned  my  look  with  as  much 
composure  as  she  could  command. 

"I  think  you  must  be  mistaken,  Julian,"  she 
insisted,  with  pathetic  gentleness.  "That  tug 
may  not  be  following  us  at  all;  but  if  it  is  it 
must  be  because  of  some  customs  regulation 
we  have  violated.  Still,  if  you  do  not  wish  it 
to  overhaul  us  it  is  not  for  me  to  say  that  it 
shall." 

As  she  looked  again  at  the  tug  she  saw  a 
rocket  signal. 

"I  think  I  will  speak  to  the  captain." 

"I  have  no  objection  to  that,"  I  said,  "but  I 
have  already  told  him  we  are  not  to  lie  to  for 
the  tug,  and  that  it  is  not  to  be  permitted  to 
approach  us.  He  is  obeying  my  orders." 

I  pointed  to  the  vomiting  smoke  of  our  funnel, 
which  lay  now  in  a  thick  smudge  behind  us  on 
the  water. 

"I  think  I'd  like  to  speak  with  him,"  she 
urged. 

He  was  at  the  port  rail  aft;  and  leaving  me 
abruptly  she  went  toward  him,  the  wind  whip 
ping  her  blue  skirts  about  her  and  tugging  at 
her  hair. 

152 


PURSUED 

Having  talked  with  the  captain,  while  I 
watched  them  furtively  and  at  the  same  time 
watched  the  tug,  she  came  back,  struggling 
against  the  breeze. 

"It  is  all  right,  Julian.  The  captain  is  not 
sure  the  tug  is  following  us,  or  that  those  signals 
were  for  us,  though  he  thought  so  at  first.  At 
any  rate,  we  are  going  to  ignore  it  and  keep 
right  on.  Does  that  please  you,  my  frightened 
boy?" 

Wan  as  her  smile  was  it  made  her  cheeks 
dimple.  She  still  carried  in  her  right  hand  her 
yachting  cap;  with  her  left  she  held  her  flutter 
ing  skirts.  Her  tumbled  hair  was  blown  into 
her  eyes,  a  bewitching  net  that  enmeshed  my 
heart.  Her  laugh  rippled  out  with  something 
of  recklessness,  as  she  added: 

"It's  just  like  the  things  one  reads  about; 
only  such  things  always  occurred  ever  so  many 
years  ago.  A  gallant  vessel  flying  along,  the 
waves  rolling,  night  coming  down,  and  behind, 
a  low,  black  demon  of  a  vessel  in  pursuit.  But 
it  ought  to  be  sails,  instead  of  steam;  and  a 
long,  rakish,  piratical  craft  with  tapering 
masts,  and  half-naked  sailors,  with  knives  in 
their  mouths,  pulling  at  the  ropes.  I  think  that 
must  be  Treasure  Island  over  there,  don't 


you  ? ' 


153 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"Kitty,"  I  cried,  "you  are  an  angel!" 

"Just  a  silly  girl,  that  loves  her  husband," 
she  answered. 

"Even  if  he  is  a  fool!" 

"Whatever  he  is,  Julian." 

"You  think  I'm  frightened,  of  course  ?" 

"I'm  not  thinking;  I'm  trying  to  imagine  how 
it  feels  to  be  chased  by  pirates." 

"It  pumps  the  blood  through  one's  veins!" 

"Aye,  Sir  Commander,  it  does;  I  feel  mine 
tingling." 

I  was  too  anxious  to  laugh  with  her. 

The  captain  came  up  to  us. 

"A  good  bit  of  wind,"  he  said. 

"A  capful,  you  mean,  Captain,"  Mrs.  Ran 
dolph  corrected,  determined  to  be  gay. 

Quinby  laughed. 

"Aye,  aye;  a  capful!" 

"We're  holding  our  own  with  the  tug,  Cap 
tain  ?"  I  asked. 

"She's  not  gaining  any  now,  and  we're  gath 
ering  speed.  We  can  show  her  a  clean  pair  of 
heels  if  we  want  to." 

"We  have  chosen  to  want  to,  Captain.  If 
they're  really  trying  to  overhaul  us  it  is  an 
impertinence." 

"Very  true,  sir,"  he  said;  but  his  tone  was 
noncommittal. 

154 


PURSUED 

We  stood  together,  watching  the  tug,  the  white- 
capped  waves,  the  vessels  here  and  there,  with 
glances  seaward.  Jack  Benson  and  Miss  Hans- 
borough  had  strolled  round  until  they  were  to 
gether  by  the  lashed  automobile.  Benson  was 
leaning  against  the  white  canvas;  and  Miss  Hans- 
borough's  white  dress  seemed  to  melt  into  that 
white  canvas  and  become  a  part  of  it.  They,  too, 
were  watching  the  tug,  and  talking  about  it. 

"You  are  doing  well,  Captain  Quinby,"  I 
said,  as  he  started  to  move  away. 

"The  best  I  can,  sir." 

The  tug  was  falling  behind.  Powerful  as  she 
was,  the  Idler  was  the  better  racing  machine. 
It  seemed  to  me  the  yacht  was  going  through 
the  water  now  like  a  torpedo  boat.  The  rough 
ening  sea  and  the  speed  with  which  she  sheared 
into  the  waves  soon  sent  a  drenching  spray  over 
the  bows,  wetting  the  canvased  auto-car  and 
driving  Miss  Hansborough  and  Jack  Benson 
from  their  position.  They  came  back  to  where 
we  stood,  laughing,  Miss  Hansborough  clutch 
ing  her  white  skirts,  with  Benson  holding  to  his 
hat  and  steadying  her  now  and  then  as  the 
yacht  dipped  and  rolled. 

"This  is  great!"  he  cried,  clinging  to  her  arm. 

"Yes  ?"  I  said,  with  a  meaning  glance  at  his 
hand. 

155 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

He  flushed,  and  the  nut-brown  maid  looked 
conscious. 

"I  mean  the  speed  at  which  we're  going,"  I 
corrected. 

"The  Idler  ought  to  be  entered  for  some  of 
the  international  races,"  he  said.  "She'd  make 
some  of  those  boats  look  like  thirty  cents." 

"We're  dropping  the  tug  fast,"  said  Miss 
Hansborough. 

Dense  banks  of  clouds  had  descended  in  the 
west,  apparently  conjured  there  by  the  smoke 
from  the  tug.  They  were  wrapping  the  tug  now, 
and  seemed  part  of  the  smudge  that  fussy  little 
craft  had  created.  The  lights,  the  islands,  even 
the  near-by  vessels,  were  being  lost  in  the  dark 
ness  of  those  clouds  and  in  the  coming  night. 

The  darkness  thickened,  and  the  tug  could 
no  longer  be  seen.  Night  was  at  hand.  The 
wind  was  brisker;  the  sea  rougher;  and  a  flood 
of  water  came  tumbling  and  hissing  at  inter 
vals  over  the  bows.  The  cover  of  the  auto 
car  dripped  with  brine.  Everything  forward 
seemed  half  afloat.  And  still  we  fled,  plung 
ing,  lifting,  staggering  on,  at  racing  speed. 

"I  think  it  would  be  wise  to  go  below,"  I 
said  to  Mrs.  Randolph. 

I  had  seen  her  shiver  in  the  chill  of  the  night 
air. 


PURSUED 

"You  don't  intend  to  keep  up  this  speed 
long?"  she  asked,  anxiously. 

I  beckoned  to  the  captain. 

"Captain,"  I  said,  "you  may  let  up  a  bit  on 
this;  the  tug  is  out  of  sight,  and  there  is  no 
longer  need  of  such  speed." 

"Yes,  sir!"  he  said;  then  added:  "but  it's 
been  a  pretty  race." 

He  walked  away,  and  the  engines  were  put 
at  a  slower  pace. 

But  the  seas  still  came  tumbling  in  on  the 
forward  deck  and  raced  in  lines  of  hissing  white 
past  the  rail,  while  the  milky  wake  lengthened 
back  into  the  increasing  darkness  like  a  blurred 
white  highway. 

"Come,  Margaret,"  said  Mrs.  Randolph, 
"we'll  be  nothing  but  mermaids  if  we  stay  here. 
You  will  come  too,  Jack  ?" 

We  walked  from  the  rail  together;  but  I 
stopped  at  the  companion-way,  with  a  make- 
believe  afterthought.  » 

"I'll  be  with  you  in  a  minute,  after  I've  had 
a  word  with  Captain  Quinby." 

"I'm  going  to  show  our  lights  now,"  said 
Quinby,  as  I  joined  him.  "We  might  be  into 
something  before  we  know  it." 

"Very  true,"  I  admitted.  "Which  way  are 
we  heading?" 

157 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"Nor'east  by  east." 

"We  shall  not  go  to  Newport  at  present, 
Captain,"  I  remarked. 

"No?"  he  said,  astonished.  "Mrs.  Ran 
dolph  told  me  we  were  to  go  to  Newport,  by 
the  sea  route." 

"Captain,"  I  said,  "I  have  my  own  good  and 
sufficient  reasons  for  whatever  I  do,  peculiar 
though  they  may  seem  to  you.  The  men  who 
followed  me  in  that  tug  doubtless  know  that  we 
are  going  to  Newport.  They  will  look  for  me 
there;  but  I'll  fool  them.  Why  they  are  seek 
ing  me  is  neither  here  nor  there;  sufficient  to 
say,  I've  done  nothing  criminal.  You  recog 
nize  me  as  the  owner  and  commander  of  this 
yacht?" 

"Certainly,  sir." 

He  lifted  his  white,  gold-braided  cap. 

"Then  steam  farther  out  to  sea  than  would 
be  necessary  if  we  were  going  only  to  Newport. 
Keep  out  of  the  Sound  altogether.  We're  going 
round  Martha's  Vineyard  and  beyond  Boston 
Light  at  least.  Just  where  we're  to  make  our 
landing  I  haven't  settled  yet  in  my  own  mind. 
I'll  talk  with  Mrs.  Randolph  about  it  first.  But 
we  are  not  going  to  Newport  this  trip." 

I  really  wanted  to  head  the  Idler  to  the  south 
ward,  in  search  of  southern  waters,  knowing  I 


PURSUED 

should  not  be  looked  for  in  that  direction,  but 
I  was  hardly  ready  for  that  yet.  I  felt  that  I 
might  do  it  before  morning. 

When  I  went  below  I  found  that  dinner  was 
being  prepared.  Mrs.  Randolph  and  her  sister 
were  in  their  staterooms.  I  had  entirely  for 
gotten  that  man  lives  by  bread;  I  had  dined 
and  supped  to  the  full  of  excitement,  and  felt 
the  need  of  nothing  else.  Benson  was  curled 
lazily  in  a  steamer  chair.  Miss  Hansborough 
had  been  more  gracious,  and  as  a  consequence 
for  him  the  skies  were  again  blue  and  the  birds 
of  love  singing.  If  he  could  have  forgotten 
Harvard  he  would  have  been  quite  happy  and 
contented. 

"I'll  take  the  train  for  Cambridge  as  soon 
as  we  hit  Newport,"  he  said.  "Maybe  I  can 
even  yet  patch  up  that  matter  and  stay  on  the 
team." 

"If  you  shouldn't  be  able  to  take  that  train  ?" 
I  asked,  as  I  dropped  into  a  chair  beside  him. 

He  sat  up  straighter  and  gave  me  a  sharp 
look. 

"Oh,  I  was  only  joking,"  I  said,  "to  see  how 
you  would  take  it!" 

"By  George,"  he  exclaimed,  "you  gave  me 
a  start!  You're  going  to  run  to  Newport  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,  we'll  go  to  Newport,  all  right." 

159 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

I  did  not  say  when. 

Jerome  came  to  me,  immaculate,  soft-footed, 
soft-voiced. 

"Everything  is  ready,  sir,"  he  announced, 
and  his  eyes  searched  my  face. 

I  went  with  him,  to  prepare  for  dinner.  I 
was  willing  to  go,  for  I  wanted  time  to  think. 
My  head  was  filled  with  plans  and  felt  as  hot 
as  an  overworked  auto-axle. 

By  the  time  dinner  was  served  the  yacht  was 
not  pitching  so  much.  Captain  Quinby  dined 
with  us,  and  that  made  it  easier  for  me,  for  the 
conversation  was  repressed  along  certain  lines 
because  of  his  presence. 

He  was  a  broad-shouldered  fellow  of  the 
rather  jovial  type,  and  had  an  Irish  face.  He 
told  stories  with  much  gusto  —  yachting  stories 
chiefly,  for  he  had  been  in  command  of  a  num 
ber  of  yachts.  He  took  pride,  too,  in  the  deft 
ness  with  which  he  could  break  an  egg;  and  I 
recall  that  he  said  the  braid  on  his  cap  was 
useful,  to  keep  him  from  being  thought  merely 
one  of  the  crew,  and  his  suggestion  that  some 
thing  of  the  kind  ought  to  be  designed  for  a 
gentleman's  evening  dress  to  keep  him  from 
being  mistaken  for  one  of  the  waiters.  He 
laughed  with  much  good  humor,  and  at  times 
showed  a  nimble  Irish  wit.  And  he  had  sense 

1 60 


PURSUED 

and  discretion;  not  once  did  he  refer  to  the 
thing  that  was  in  the  mind  of  each  of  us. 

After  dinner  I  again  went  on  deck,  excusing 
myself  to  Mrs.  Randolph. 

"Nothing  more  of  that  confounded  tug?"  I 
asked  of  the  captain. 

"  Oh,  no,  sir ! "  with  confidence.  "  I  don't  doubt 
she  is  crawling  back  to  New  York  City  long  ago." 

"Then,  of  course,  she  can't  pick  us  up  in  the 
morning  ?" 

"Not  a  chance  of  it,  sir." 

I  studied  the  sky,  but  I  was  no  mariner.  Off 
on  the  port  bow  the  green  and  red  lights  of  a 
vessel  dipped  and  winked,  and  on  the  starboard 
quarter  there  were  rows  of  shining  lights,  which 
I  had  observed  as  soon  as  I  came  on  deck. 

"One  of  the  European  mail  steamers,"  he 
said.  "She's  moving  along." 

I  went  below  again.  Mrs.  Randolph,  re 
solved  to  show  no  uneasiness  over  my  seeming 
eccentricities,  had  seated  herself  in  the  little 
cabin  at  a  table,  with  Benson  and  her  sister, 
and  had  cards  in  her  hands. 

"We're  just  waiting  for  you,"  she  said. 

I  was  not  pleased;  yet  play  would  eat  up 
some  of  the  time  that  threatened  to  hang  with 
unpleasant  and  even  dangerous  superfluousness 
on  my  hands. 

161 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

It  was  midnight  when  I  went  on  deck  again. 
The  captain  was  still  there,  and  I  engaged  him 
in  conversation.  For  an  hour  we  talked  and 
smoked,  burning  my  best  cigars. 

"If  not  Newport,  where  ?"  he  asked  at  last. 

"This  is  a  yacht,  Captain,  and  a  yacht  is  a 
pleasure  boat.  We  will  roam  about,  and  go  to 
Newport  by  and  by.  Just  now  think  of  High 
land  Light,  off  Truro,  on  the  Cape,  as  your 
destination.  When  we  get  there  I'll  give  you 
further  orders." 

"Sealed  orders,  sir,  or  near  that." 

He  laughed  as  if  amused. 

"You've  had  the  like  before  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,  sir;  more  than  once.  I've  changed 
courses  as  much  as  half  a  dozen  times  in  a 
single  day." 

"I  suppose  the  owner  was  drunk  at  the 
time?" 

He  laughed  again,  and  threw  the  stub  of  his 
cigar  over  the  rail. 

"I  didn't  say  so,  sir." 

I  talked  to  the  captain  as  long  as  I  could  find 
anything  to  say.  And  when  there  seemed  no 
more  to  talk  about  I  strolled  the  deck,  watching 
the  yeasty  waves  hiss  past  the  rail  in  the  dark 
ness. 


162 


XV 

"WAS  EVER  WOMAN  IN  THIS  HUMOUR  WOOED  ?" 

IT  was  very  late  when  I  went  below.     The 
cabin  was  deserted  by  all  save  Mrs.  Ran 
dolph,  who  was  apparently  awaiting  my 
return.      I  wondered  if  she  had   not  come  up 
the  companion-way  more  than  once  to  ascertain 
what  was  detaining  me.     She  sat  by  the  table 
and  had  been  trying  to  kill  time  with  solitaire. 
She  had   the  cards  spread   out   in   little  piles, 
but  swept  them  into  a  heap  when  she  saw  me. 

Garbed  in  white,  as  her  sister  had  been,  she 
arose  as  I  entered.  She  must  have  understood 
the  impression  that  dress  and  feminine  charms 
make  on  a  man  and  counted  on  it  in  the  inter 
view  she  was  seeking.  Yet  at  the  moment  there 
was  no  thought  in  my  mind  that  the  witchery 
of  dress  and  the  sweet  brightness  she  had  as 
sumed  were  so  intended.  I  saw  but  her  beauty. 
And  as  I  thus  beheld  her  I  longed  to  take  her 
in  my  arms  and  tell  her  how  I  loved  her,  and 
that  all  my  mysterious  actions  were  based  on 
that  love.  I  had  delayed  on  deck  that  I  might 
not  see  her  again  that  night;  but  now  my  heart 

163 


THE  CASTLE  OF   DOUBT 

so  went  out  to  her  that  it  pleased  me  to  know 
she  had  waited  and  that  I  had  not  missed  see 
ing  her.  Yet  I  hesitated. 

''  Julian,"  she  said  when  I  took  the  chair  near 
her,  "you  were  talking  of  Courtney  Lane  ?" 

The  electric  lamp  shedding  its  white  light  on 
her  face  revealed  its  hidden  anxiety. 

"This  is  romantic,"  I  evaded;  "out  on  the 
rolling  deep,  with  a  staunch  yacht  under  us,  a 
reliable  captain  and  crew,  and  the  wind  and 
waves  flying.  I  think  I  should  like  to  cross  the 
Atlantic  in  this  way." 

"We  may  again  some  time,"  she  said,  trying 
to  meet  my  pretended  jocund  spirit  in  the  same 
mood. 

"When  was  it  we  went  to  the  Mediterranean 
in  the  Idler?""  I  asked,  trifling  with  the  cards. 

"  Four  years  ago — shortly  after  our  marriage." 

How  strange  that  sounded!  She  had  mar 
ried  Julian  Randolph  four  years  ago.  And  she 
looked  not  more  than  twenty. 

"And  we  had  a  perfectly  splendid  time!"  she 
added. 

She  leaned  toward  me,  her  blue  eyes  shining, 
her  lips  parted,  a  spot  of  red  in  each  cheek. 

"Oh,  Julian!  Julian!" 

Remorse  cut  me  like  a  knife. 

"Be  a  man!"  my  manhood  whispered. 

164 


"IN  THIS  HUMOUR  WOOED" 

"Play  your  part  to  the  end,"  advised  my 
fears. 

I  thought  I  knew  what  was  in  her  heart;  and 
that  wild  longing  to  take  her  in  my  arms  and 
claim  her  for  my  very  own  almost  overpowered 
me. 

My  fingers  trembled  as  I  felt  in  my  pockets 
for  that  letter  from  Asbury  Rand  which  had 
startled  me  in  the  house  on  Fifth  Avenue.  She 
was  watching  me,  her  attitude  expectant,  eager, 
as  we  sat  there  —  we  two  alone  together.  She 
divined  for  what  I  was  searching. 

"If  you  don't  desire  to  talk  about  it,  Julian  ?" 
she  said,  with  gracious  comprehension  of  my 
trembling  hesitation. 

"My  God,"  I  burst  out,  "I've  got  to  talk 
about  it!" 

I  felt  that  she  needed  a  better  understanding 
of  the  groundwork  of  my  fears. 

"Here  is  that  letter,"  I  said,  giving  it  to  her. 
"I  have  known  for  some  time  that  Courtney 
Lane  is  my  deadly  enemy;  that  he  distrusts  me, 
and  intends  to  crush  me.  So  I  took  steps  to 
cripple  his  efforts  all  I  could.  But  I  didn't  know 
he  was  so  desperate  —  didn't  dream  of  it;  this 
letter  will  show  you  how  desperate  he  is.  It 
was  sent  to  me  by  a  detective  whom  I  employed 
to  look  up  his  misdoings." 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"You  employed  a  detective?" 

She  clutched  the  letter  and  took  in  its  con 
tents  at  a  glance. 

"I  employed  a  detective  to  shadow  Lane," 
I  said  defiantly.  "He  discovered  the  fact,  or 
else  became  frightened  by  that  interview  in 
the  Mirror;  and,  as  you  see  there,  he  purposes 
to  have  me  examined  by  alienists  and  declared 
insane,  that  I  may  not  be  able  to  thwart  him 
in  the  financial  raids  he  is  making  on  you, 
under  cover  of  serving  you." 

She  ignored  this;  it  was  not  as  new  as  it  had 
been  a  few  hours  before. 

"You  do  not  believe  what  that  letter  says  ?" 

"I  believe  everything  in  it,"  I  answered. 
"Lane  pretends  to  think  that  I  am  either  an 
impostor  or  a  lunatic,  and  perhaps  a  good  deal 
of  both." 

"You  should  have  shown  me  this  at  the 
house,"  she  urged. 

"Could  you  have  stopped  him  ?" 

"I'm  sure  I  could.  He  is  very  silly,  if  he  has 
undertaken  a  thing  of  this  kind." 

"He  has  not  only  undertaken  it,  but  he  means 
to  carry  it  through,"  I  assured  her.  "I  hope 
you  will  begin  to  understand  the  infamy  of  that 
man.  He  has  been  robbing  you  boldly.  He 
knows  that  I  know  it;  and  the  only  thing  he  can 

166 


"IN  THIS  HUMOUR  WOOED" 

think  of  to  keep  me  from  exposing  him  is  some 
such  desperate  game  as  this." 

"I  —  I  think  you  must  be  mistaken!" 

But  her  lips  trembled,  and  her  face  was  again 
white. 

"Mrs.  Randolph,"  I  said,  and  I  know  my 
voice  shook,  "will  you  let  me  make  a  confession 
to  you?" 

"Say  anything  you  please,  Julian." 

"I  must  tell  you  the  truth  again,"  I  cried 
huskily;  "for  the  lies  I  repeat  over  and  over 
and  the  lie  I  am  living  choke  me.  I  am  horri 
fied,  when  I  think  of  it;  and  I  seem  to  think  of  it 
all  the  time." 

She  laid  her  hand  on  my  arm. 

"Julian,"  she  said  earnestly,  "don't  you  think 
I  understand  the  situation  ?" 

"Yes,  but  I  must  tell  you!"  I  declared.  "I 
must  tell  you  again,  for  you  seem  not  to  have 
believed  me,  or  comprehended.  I  did  meet 
Lane  that  time  in  Philadelphia.  He  has  se 
cured  the  proofs  of  it,  and  of  the  fact  that  I 
taught  in  a  school  there.  He  believes,  knows, 
that  I  am  not  Julian  Randolph." 

Her  fingers  tightened  in  a  sharp  clutch  on  my 
arm. 

"You  hear  what  I  say  ?"  I  asked. 

"Yes,  Julian." 

167 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

The  very  calmness  and  quietness  of  the 
answer  startled  me. 

I  dropped  to  her  feet,  in  an  agony  of  love  and 
remorse. 

"Mrs.  Randolph,"  I  said,  "when  I  met  you 
in  that  strange  way  I  loved  you  as  soon  as  I  saw 
you;  and  I  love  you  a  thousand  times  more  now 
than  I  did  then.  I  did  not  believe  such  love 
was  possible.  To  think  that  I  may  now  lose 
you  fills  me  with  a  continual  terror.  And  yet 
I  am  going  to  confess  fully  my  imposture,  even 
though  it  sends  me  from  you  forever." 

She  bent  over  me  and  put  her  arms  round  my 
neck.  I  do  not  know  how  it  happened;  but  the 
next  moment  she  was  weeping  in  my  arms,  and 
I  was  kissing  her  hair  with  rapturous,  feverish 
kisses.  I  drew  her  to  me,  passionately,  in 
sanely;  I  felt  that  I  could  not  let  her  go. 

"Mrs.  Randolph,"  I  said,  "I  have  been  from 
the  first  a  base  liar  and  hypocrite.  I  took  ad 
vantage  of  your  belief  in  my  identity  as  your 
husband.  Would  to  God  I  were  your  hus 
band!  But  I  am  not.  I  am  only  a  miserable 
fraud  and  pretender.  You  would  not  believe 
this  at  first,  and  my  great  love  for  you  then 
caused  me  to  become  so  weak  and  villanous 
that  I  stopped  trying  to  make  you  see  the 
truth.  But  I  can  go  no  farther." 

168 


"IN  THIS  HUMOUR  WOOED" 

I  poured  out  my  confession  in  that  wild  way. 
I  told  her  of  my  suspicions  against  Courtney 
Lane  and  how  they  were  aroused;  of  how  I  had 
resolved  to  thwart  and  ruin  him,  for  her  sake; 
of  how  when  that  was  done  I  had  meant  to  con 
fess  everything  to  her  and  leave  her  forever;  and 
of  the  feeling  that  had  grown  in  me  and  become 
stronger  than  my  own  life  that  I  could  not  leave 
her,  because  I  loved  her  with  a  power  which  I 
could  not  subdue. 

"I  knew  you  would  scorn  and  hate  me;  you 
scorn  and  hate  me  now?"  I  raved. 

She  clung  to  me,  weeping  like  a  child. 

"You  don't  believe  what  I  have  told  you?" 
I  cried. 

"If  you  want  me  to,  I  will  believe  all  of 
it." 

"You  must  believe  that  I  love  you!  Oh,  my 
God,  how  I  love  you!  It  will  kill  me  to  lose 
you." 

I  pressed  her  to  my  heart  and  lavished  kisses 
on  her.  She  did  not  draw  away. 

"Though  I  am  not  your  husband,  I  may  hope 
to  become  your  husband  ?" 

"Yes,  if  you  wish  it,  Julian." 

Julian!  Great  Heavens!  Even  yet  she  did 
not  believe  me.  I  released  her  from  my  arms. 

"I  wish  it,"  I  avowed.    "No  man  ever  wished 

169 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

anything  more.  You  will  not  change  when  you 
find  that  all  I  have  told  you  is  true  ?" 

She  smoothed  back  her  hair,  rumpled  by  my 
caresses.  She  was  breathless. 

"What  a  lover  you  are!  See  what  a  tangle 
my  hair  is  in." 

She  tried  to  straighten  it  out,  taking  the  chair 
she  had  occupied.  I  took  the  other,  and  looked 
at  her,  my  hungry  love  unsatisfied,  marvelling 
at  this  woman's  belief  in  me. 

"See!"  she  said.  "You've  snarled  it  so  that 
I  shall  have  to  braid  it." 

She  shook  the  shining  coils  down  her  back. 
They  were  loose  and  fluffy,  and  the  light  bright 
ened  them;  they  were  a  very  glory  against  the 
white  of  her  dress.  When  she  set  her  slender 
fingers  at  work  the  flying  strands  became  rayon- 
nant. 

"You  will  believe  me,"  I  said,  "when  I  prove 
to  you  that  Courtney  Lane  is  a  deep-dyed 
villain?" 

"It  will  be  hard  to  believe.  He  has  prob 
ably  made  mistakes;  he  isn't  perfection.  If  he 
got  out  those  papers  against  you  and  chased  us 
in  that  tug  he  certainly  made  a  very  great 
mistake." 

"You  will  believe  what  I  say  of  him  if  I 
prove  it  ?" 

170 


"IN  THIS  HUMOUR  WOOED" 

"I  shall  have  to." 

"And  these  other  things,  if  I  prove  them  ?" 

"I  shall  have  to,  then,  of  course." 

She  did  not  believe  them  now,  however.  She 
wrinkled  her  brows  in  perplexity;  in  her  azure 
eyes  rested  a  cloud  of  some  kind. 

"The  important  thing  is  that  I  love  you,"  I 
said;  "that  is  all  I  know  now.  I  hope  I  don't 
need  to  prove  that;  and  I  shall  want  to  know 
nothing  else  forever  than  that  you  love  me.  I 
intend  to  prove  myself  the  man  you  love,  even 
if  not  the  man  you  suppose  me  to  be.  You 
have  loved  the  memory  of  your  husband.  I 
shall  be  to  you  your  husband  reincarnated." 

"It  would  be  the  strangest  thing  in  the 
world." 

Her  fingers  were  flying  in  her  shining  braids, 
her  blue  eyes  were  fixed  on  my  flushed  face. 
What  she  saw  there  I  do  not  know;  other  than 
that  I  am  sure  she  did  not  fail  to  see  the  over 
mastering  love  that  had  swept  me  on. 

"Kitty,"  I  said,  "I  will  be  the  best  and  the 
most  loving  husband  it  is  possible  for  me  to  be 
—  for  any  man  to  be.  I  shall  live  just  to  love 
you  and  make  you  happy.  You  love  me  now, 
as  another  man;  you  shall  love  me  for  myself 
alone,  and  as  your  husband.  You  have  given 
me  life  again.  I  feared  you  would  spurn  me. 

171 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

But  you  will  not  spurn  me  ever,  even  if  I  have 

played  the  hypocrite?" 

"  Of  course  not,"  was  her  answer,  her  brows 

still  perplexed  and  her  eyes  shadowed. 
"And  you  will  become  my  wife  ?" 
"If  I  am  not  your  wife  now,  I  am  ready  to 

become  your  wife  at  any  time." 

"  Was  ever  woman  in  this  humour  wooed  ? 
Was  ever  woman  in  this  humour  won  ?" 


172 


XVI 

THE  OFFICER  FROM  NEW  YORK 

"\7r°RK  HARBOR,  Captain,"  I  said  to  Cap 
tain  Quinby,  when  he  came  to  me  for 
further  instructions. 

"York  Harbor  it  is,"  he  answered,  "and  a 
pleasant  place.  I've  been  there  a  number  of 
times." 

Obeying  my  orders,  he  kept  the  yacht  well 
out  at  sea,  to  avoid  being  spoken  by  passing 
vessels,  and  went  on  toward  York  Harbor. 
My  inclinations  made  me  wish  to  cruise  idly 
about,  without  touching  at  any  port,  until  our 
supply  of  coal  was  nearly  gone;  but  I  was  anx 
ious  to  get  in  telegraphic  communication  with 
Asbury  Rand,  whom  I  pictured  as  industri 
ously  digging  up  for  me  the  evidence  with 
which  I  should  overwhelm  and  crush  Courtney 
Lane. 

On  this  point  I  grew  so  anxious  that  I  had 
the  captain  put  in  at  Bryant's  Cove,  on  the 
Massachusetts  coast,  and  I  sent  a  boat  ashore 
with  an  urgent  telegram.  Mrs.  Randolph  sent 
a  message  to  Lane,  which  she  showed  me,  tell- 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

ing  him  if  he  had  taken  any  such  steps  against 
me  as  I  thought  he  must  desist  at  once. 

Jack  Benson  was  at  first  very  anxious  to  be 
put  ashore  here,  but  I  think  he  must  have  had 
a  further  talk  with  Miss  Hansborough  or  Mrs. 
Randolph,  for  after  some  half-suppressed  fum 
ing  he  merely  sent  an  explanatory  message  to 
his  captain.  I  was  too  engrossed  in  my  own 
affairs  to  give  much  heed  to  this  at  the  time. 

As  for  Mrs.  Randolph  and  her  sister,  they 
had  apparently  come  to  some  mutual  under 
standing  about  me;  for  when  I  urged  York 
Harbor  instead  of  Newport,  neither  offered  the 
slightest  objection.  They  really  seemed  (for 
my  benefit  I  felt  sure)  to  prefer  York  Harbor 
just  then  to  any  other  place  on  earth. 

So  the  Idler  (now  deserving  its  name)  idled 
along.  I  wanted  to  give  Asbury  Rand  time  not 
only  to  get  my  telegram,  but  to  "do  things,"  if 
he  had  not  already  done  them.  The  orders  I 
had  sent  him  were  peremptory;  chief  of  them 
was  an  instruction  to  arrest  Courtney  Lane  at 
once,  if  he  had  secured  or  could  secure  a  scin 
tilla  of  evidence  against  him. 

Voyaging  lazily,  on  lazy  summer  seas,  is  about 
the  most  delightful  mode  of  existence  imagina 
ble,  if  one  can  have  ease  of  mind.  The  skies 
were  blue,  the  seas  blue,  and  the  eyes  of  my 


THE  OFFICER  FROM  NEW  YORK 

love  were  as  blue  as  the  seas  or  the  sky.  In 
spite  of  depressing  anxiety,  love  sailed  with  us. 
The  clouds  became  fleecy  and  the  winds  slept. 
The  Idler  was  almost  like  "  a  painted  ship  upon 
a  painted  ocean." 

The  sun  was  descending  in  red  cloud  banks, 
as  we  steamed  slowly  through  the  narrow 
channel  into  the  little  bay  at  York  Harbor  and 
cast  anchor  before  the  town.  We  floated  the 
pennant  of  the  New  York  Yacht  Club. 

Hardly  was  the  anchor  down  when  a  boat  put 
out  from  the  wharf  and  came  bobbing  toward 
us.  Jerome  touched  my  elbow. 

"There's  that  New  York  officer,  sir!" 

His  voice  thrilled  with  the  tremendous  import 
of  his  discovery.  He  was  right;  it  was  the  New 
York  officer.  We  crowded  to  the  rail,  watching 
the  boat  as  it  came  dancing  toward  us  across 
the  sparkling  waves.  Mrs.  Randolph  was  in 
blue  linen,  Miss  Hansborough  in  the  white 
dress  that  so  became  her. 

Turning  my  back  on  the  little  company  by 
the  rail  I  ran  below  and  into  my  stateroom. 
There  I  secured  the  revolver  I  had  brought  from 
the  house  on  Fifth  Avenue.  It  had  been  Julian 
Randolph's.  I  had  appropriated  it,  and  the 
cartridges  I  found  with  it,  for  an  emergency,  as 
I  had  appropriated  all  his  other  belongings. 

175 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

The  boat  was  almost  alongside  when  I  re 
gained  the  deck  and  again  stood  with  Mrs.  Ran 
dolph  and  her  companions.  All  were  looking 
down  into  the  boat. 

The  man  in  the  stern-sheets  stood  up  now. 
He  was  middle-aged,  moustached,  severe-look 
ing,  and  he  wore  a  suit  of  coarse  plaids.  A  big 
watch  chain  cabled  his  waistcoat,  and  I  saw 
the  shine  of  a  seal  ring  as  he  put  up  his  hand  to 
lift  his  derby  hat. 

"Is  this  yacht  the  Idler?"  he  asked;  a  super 
fluous  question,  for  the  name  was  visible  on  the 
starboard  bow  which  he  had  passed,  and  he 
must  have  seen  it. 

"It  is,"  said  Benson,  staring  an  inquiry. 

"Then,  will  you  be  kind  enough  to  tell  me  if 
Mr.  Julian  Randolph  is  on  board  ?" 

"He  is  not,"  I  responded,  with  a  promptness 
that  kept  any  one  else  from  answering. 

"I  mean  a  man  answering  to  the  name  of 
Julian  Randolph  ?"  he  amended,  and  began  to 
feel  in  an  inside  pocket  of  his  plaid  coat. 

"What  is  it  you  wish  of  him?"  Mrs.  Ran 
dolph  asked. 

I  could  see  that  both  Benson  and  the  captain 
were  startled,  and  that  even  the  nut-brown  maid 
had  lost  her  customary  sang-froid. 

The  man  stopped  his  pocket  fumbling  and 


THE  OFFICER  FROM  NEW  YORK 

looked  Mrs.  Randolph  straight  in  the  face,  for 
the  moment  ignoring  the  rest  of  us.  The  boat 
was  bumping  against  the  yacht,  and  one  of  the 
boatmen  had  put  up  an  oar  to  push  it  off. 

"I  have  evidence,  Madam,"  was  the  respect 
ful  answer,  with  another  touch  of  his  derby  hat, 
"that  the  man  who  has  been  posing  as  Julian 
Randolph,  and  by  many  is  believed  to  be  Julian 
Randolph,  is  on  this  yacht.  I  don't  want  to 
make  trouble.  My  name  is  Jepson;  I  am  a 
police  officer,  from  New  York,  and  have  instruc 
tions  to  arrest  and  hold  this  man  for  exami 
nation.  I  am  acting  in  conjunction  with  the 
police  officers  here." 

He  waved  his  hand  toward  a  man  who  sat  in 
the  boat. 

As  no  one  answered  immediately  —  through 
amazement  on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Randolph  and 
her  sister,  Benson  and  the  captain  —  Jepson 
went  on,  explaining: 

"It  was  thought  your  yacht  would  put  in  at 
Newport;  but  she  was  sighted  farther  north, 
and  a  wireless  was  sent;  it  was  believed  she  was 
coming  here.  Then  I  received  my  instruc 
tions." 

He  brought  his  written  authority  out  with  a 
jerk.  The  boatman  had  given  a  sudden  push 
against  the  side  of  the  yacht  with  his  oar,  to 

177 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

keep  the  bumping  boat  off,  and  Jepson  came 
near  going  into  the  water.  He  righted  himself, 
and  stood  up,  red-faced  and  threatening. 

"If  he  is  on  board,  it  is  my  duty  to  arrest 
him!" 

"He  is  not  on  board,"  said  Mrs.  Randolph 
quietly. 

Jepson's  red  face  looked  indignant  disbelief. 

"Are  you  quite  sure  of  that,  Madam?"  he 
asked  sharply.  "He  was  on  her  when  she 
sailed  from  New  York,  and  you  have  stopped 
nowhere  but  at  Bryant's  Cove,  where  the  boat 
took  only  messages  ashore.  He  is  bound  to  be 
on  this  yacht,  unless  he  jumped  overboard." 

"We  threw  him  over,  just  off  Highland 
Light,"  said  Benson  with  reckless  lightness  of 
manner. 

Jepson's  red  face  grew  redder.  His  derby, 
his  moustache,  even  that  suit  of  plaid,  bristled 
indignation. 

"Come!"  he  cried.  "No  foolishness!  This 
ain't  no  joke.  I'm  commanded  to  get  this  man, 
and  I  want  him."  He  looked  straight  at  me. 
"I  think  that  is  the  man  right  there." 

Miss  Hansborough  leaned  persuasively  over 
the  rail.  She  was  cool  again,  and  the  only  one 
there  who  was. 

"  If  we  tell  you  that  the  man  you  are  looking 


THE  OFFICER  FROM  NEW  YORK 

for  isn't  on  the  Idler,  and  hasn't  been  on  the 
Idler •,  what  then  ?"  she  asked. 

"  But  he  sailed  on  her  from  New  York.  And 
I  know  that's  him,  standing  right  there.  I'm  sure 
he's  the  guy  I'm  after,  and  I'll  take  the  risks." 

"  Do  you  mean  that  you  will  drag  me  off"  this 
yacht  on  mere  suspicion  ?"  I  flashed  at  him. 

"Let  me  search  the  yacht.  The  man  I'm 
after  was  on  her." 

"  If  you  should  find  him,  what  would  you  do 
with  him?"  Miss  Hansborough  asked  sweetly. 

"Hold  him,  of  course." 

"Hold  him  where?" 

"In  jail,  unless  he  furnished  bail;  men  are 
coming  on  from  New  York  to  identify  him,  and 
they'll  be  here  by  the  next  train.  If  I  made  a 
mistake,  the  man  could  go;  but  if  I  wasn't 
mistaken  he'd  probably  be  held  here,  after 
examination,  for  extradition  papers." 

"I'm  awfully  sorry,"  said  Miss  Hansborough, 
still  leaning  over  the  rail.  "It's  too  bad  to  have 
to  disappoint  you." 

"Do  you  mean  you  ain't  going  to  surrender 
him?" 

"Why,  of  course,  Silly,  we'd  surrender  him  if 
he  were  here;  but  he  isn't  here." 

She  pulled  some  petals  from  a  flower  she 
wore,  put  one  carelessly  between  her  lips  and 

179 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

as  carelessly  threw  the  others  into  the  water. 
Her  nerves  were  as  steady  as  iron.  I  dared  not 
look  at  Mrs.  Randolph. 

"Then  I'll  search  the  yacht!"  Jepson  bel 
lowed. 

"You  may,"  said  Miss  Hansborough,  "if 
you're  not  willing  to  accept  our  word.  But  you 
will  not  find  him."  She  puckered  her  brows 
into  a  severe  frown.  "But  let  me  remind  you 
that  in  doing  so  you  become  a  trespasser." 

Jepson  took  hold  of  the  rail  and  swung  him 
self  up,  with  a  boost  from  the  oarsman.  He 
walked  straight  up  to  me. 

"I  think  you're  the  man  I  want,"  he  said. 

"Better  be  sure  of  it,"  I  warned.  My  hand 
was  on  the  revolver  in  my  pocket,  though  I  had 
not  made  up  my  mind  to  use  it. 

"Here's  the  yacht  before  you,"  said  Mrs. 
Randolph.  "Look  it  over." 

Jepson  hesitated;  he  was  confused,  and  his 
face  was  still  a  fiery  red.  He  had  the  outraged 
air  of  a  man  who  feels  that  he  is  being  trifled 
with  and  badgered.  After  a  moment  he  moved 
toward  the  companion-way. 

"I'll  go  down  and  look  round,"  he  said,  "but 
I  think  that's  my  man."  He  stopped.  "I'd 
like  to  have  some  one  go  along,  to  give  me  the 
lay  of  things." 

180 


THE  OFFICER  FROM  NEW  YORK 

"To  be  sure,"  said  Benson. 

Jepson  went  below,  accompanied  by  Jack 
Benson  and  Miss  Hansborough.  The  captain 
drew  off  toward  the  after  deck  and  looked  at 
the  sky.  Forward  some  members  of  the  crew 
were  glancing  in  our  direction;  and  two  of  the 
stokers,  sweaty  and  grimy,  who  had  come  up 
for  a  breath  of  air,  also  looked  our  way. 

"Julian,"  said  Mrs.  Randolph  in  an  alarmed 
voice,  "what  shall  we  do?" 

"  Do  ?  Nothing.  I  shall  not  go  with  that 
fellow,  and  if  he  tries  to  make  me  there  will  be 
trouble.  I  understand  this  thing.  Lane  is 
back  of  it,  of  course.  I  shall  fight  for  my 
liberty,  for  a  long  enough  time  to  enable  me 
to  put  him  behind  the  bars.  Then  I'm  willing 
to  surrender;  for  there  will  be  nothing  to  sur 
render  to,  when  he  is  out  of  the  way." 

She  was  troubled;  her  face  held  almost  a 
frightened  look. 

"Come,"  I  said,  "don't  worry!  I  don't  in 
tend  to  surrender  to  him." 

"You  could  furnish  a  bond,  you  know,  and — " 

"What  ?  Yield  even  that  much  ?  Suffer  the 
ignominy  of  being  placed  under  arrest  at  the  in 
stigation  of  Courtney  Lane  ?  No;  I'll  fight  first." 

"You  are  right,"  she  assented;  "I  see  you 
are  right.  Forgive  me." 

181 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

Jepson  did  not  stay  below  long.  When  he 
came  up,  Benson  and  Miss  Hansborough  were 
with  him.  Benson's  face  was  as  red  now  as 
Jepson's,  and  both  were  as  red  as  the  setting 
sun.  I  saw  that  he  and  Jepson  had  been 
having  words.  The  nut-brown  maid  was  still 
calm.  Benson  came  toward  me  quickly,  getting 
in  front  of  Jepson.  His  broad  shoulders  looked 
peculiarly  aggressive.  His  eyes  glittered.  He 
tossed  back  his  long  hair  angrily,  with  a  heavy 
swing  of  his  muscular  hand.  He  seemed  to 
expand  vigorously,  in  his  loose  suit  of  gray 
flannel. 

"He  says  he's  going  to  take  you,"  he  almost 
shouted;  "and  if  he  tries  it,  and  you  don't  want 
to  go  with  him,  there's  going  to  be  a  first-class 
fight!" 


182 


XVII 

UNDER  THE  JOLLY  ROGER 

J EPSON  followed  hard  at  Benson's  heels. 
He  stopped  in  front  of  me,  ignoring  the 
aggressive  youth,  eyed  me  sharply,  and  took 
out  his  folded   paper.     He  began  to  read   the 
document,  which  called  for  my  detention. 

There  was  a  nervous  silence  all  round,  in 
which  his  harsh  voice  rose  with  singular  clear 
ness;  a  silence  that  made  distinct  the  splashing 
of  the  waves  against  the  hull  of  the  yacht  and 
the  grinding  and  bumping  of  the  boat  against 
the  planks. 

One  of  the  boatmen  had  climbed  to  the  rail, 
and  was  hanging  poised  there,  with  one  leg 
only  on  deck.  Jerome  stood  close  by  the  com 
panion-way,  his  face  pink  and  indignant.  The 
captain  had  edged  nearer,  his  hands  thrust 
loosely  into  the  pockets  of  his  white  coat;  he 
was  regarding  the  scene  with  frowning  uneasi 
ness. 

"I  must  ask  you  to  come  with  me,"  said 
Jepson,  when  he  had  finished  reading.  He 
slipped  his  coat  open,  displayed  an  official  badge, 

'83 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

and  lifted  his  voice.  "I  command  you  to  sur 
render!"  He  glanced  irresolutely  at  the  boat 
man  hanging  over  the  rail,  as  if  thinking  of 
appealing  to  him  for  aid. 

Mrs.  Randolph  broke  the  awkward  pause  that 
followed.  She  was  outwardly  as  calm  now  as 
her  sister,  which  must  have  cost  her  a  great 
effort. 

"Mr.  Jepson,"  she  said,  "I  think  this  farce 
has  gone  on  long  enough.  This  is  our  yacht. 
The  man  you  are  looking  for  is  not  here.  We 
decline  to  be  insulted  further.  There  is  your 
boat,  and  you  will  please  us  by  getting  into 
it." 

"By  George,  we'll  pitch  you  into  it,  if  you 
don't  go!"  cried  Benson.  "We  have  had  enough 
of  you." 

"I'll  come  again!"  said  Jepson,  moving 
toward  the  rail.  "I'm  an  officer  of  the  law, 
and  I'll  come  again.  This  is  resisting  an 
officer." 

"If  you  show  your  nose  on  this  deck,  over 
you  go,  without  any  foolishness!"  said  Benson, 
following  him. 

"I'll  get  help,  and  come  again,"  Jepson 
threatened. 

The  boatman  went  out  of  sight  over  the  rail. 
Jepson  gained  the  rail  and  sprang  lightly  down 

184 


UNDER  THE  JOLLY  ROGER 

into  the  boat.  The  captain,  lighted  cigar  now 
in  his  teeth,  sauntered  toward  us,  and  Jerome 
advanced  from  the  head  of  the  companion-way. 
The  boat  moved  from  the  side  of  the  Idler. 
The  next  moment  it  was  being  pulled  shore 
ward. 

Captain  Quinby  laughed  as  if  the  whole  thing 
had  amused  him  greatly. 

"  I  was  ready  to  put  in  an  oar  if  I  was  wanted," 
he  said. 

"But  he  declared  he  would  come  back!" 
said  Mrs.  Randolph  uneasily.  "We  must  leave 
here  at  once." 

"No,"  I  said,  "we  are  not  going  until  I  get 
some  word  from  New  York.  I  am  not  afraid 
of  that  scoundrel.  If  a  man's  house  is  his 
castle,  so  is  his  yacht;  and  we'll  defend  it,  if 
we  have  to." 

"We'll  run  up  the  Jolly  Roger,"  said  Benson, 
with  an  effervescence  that  could  hardly  have 
been  real. 

As  soon  as  it  was  certain  that  Jepson  would 
not  return  immediately  we  held  a  council  of 
war  in  the  cabin.  I  invited  Captain  Quinby 
to  consult  with  us,  but  instructed  him  to  station 
a  lookout  on  deck,  that  we  might  not  be  sur 
prised.  And  I  asked  Jerome  to  come  in.  I 
felt  that  I  needed  now  all  the  force  I  could 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

muster.  Four  men,  not  to  mention  the  crew, 
of  whom  I  was  not  sure,  would  constitute  no 
mean  fighting  force. 

To  all  except  Mrs.  Randolph  I  was  still 
posing  as  Julian  Randolph.  How  much  Miss 
Hansborough  knew,  or  guessed,  I  could  not  tell. 
She  was  of  course  her  sister's  confidante.  And 
lovers  hold  few  secrets  from  each  other.  Hence 
it  seemed  probable  that  if  Miss  Hansborough 
had  been  enlightened,  Benson  had  been,  too. 
Whatever  they  knew,  if  anything,  they  con 
cealed  from  the  captain. 

"In  the  first  place,"  I  said,  opening  our  talk, 
"it  is  to  be  understood  that  if  I  surrender  to 
this  man  it  will  be  only  when  I  am  ready  to 
do  so.  A  trap  has  been  set  for  me,  and  I  do 
not  intend  to  fall  into  it.  I  am  expecting  im 
portant  news  from  New  York;  an  answer  to  the 
telegram  I  sent  from  Bryant's  Cove.  As  soon 
as  I  get  it  I  intend  to  turn  the  tables  on  the 
man  who  is  now  trying  to  ruin  me.  When 
things  have  so  shaped  themselves  that  I  know 
I  shall  be  safe  from  him,  I  shall  be  ready  to 
face  whatever  legal  complications  may  come 
from  our  present  action.  But  now,  and  until 
I  have  news  from  my  agent  in  New  York,  I 
shall  fight,  before  I  surrender." 

I  stopped.     Fuller  explanations,  and  the  men- 

186 


UNDER  THE  JOLLY  ROGER 

tion  of  the  name  of  Courtney  Lane,  did  not 
seem  necessary. 

"Will  some  one  go  ashore  and  find  if  there  is 
a  telegram  for  me  ?"  I  asked  in  the  silence  that 
followed. 

"I  will,"  said  Benson,  and  there  was  fighting 
fire  in  his  eyes;  "I  think  I'd  like  to  know  what 
is  being  said  and  done  there." 

"I  can  go,"  Captain  Quinby  volunteered. 

Mrs.  Randolph  lifted  her  eyes  to  mine. 

"Perhaps  I'd  better  go,  Julian,"  she  said, 
surprising  me  by  the  offer.  "Margaret  and  I 
are  the  ones  to  go.  The  men  should  stay  by 
the  yacht.  I  don't  think  that  officer  will  return; 
but  if  he  should,  with  assistance,  as  he  threat 
ened,  you  may  need  all  the  force  you  have 
here." 

The  wharves  were  not  far  away,  and  I  had 
been  informed  that  the  telegraph  office  was  not 
distant  from  the  wharves;  so  that  it  would  have 
been  easy  to  send  Jerome,  or  even  some  mem 
ber  of  the  crew.  But  I  saw  that  Mrs.  Randolph 
wished  to  go. 

The  conference  broke  up  at  once;  and  Mrs. 
Randolph  and  Miss  Hansborough  were  taken 
ashore  in  the  Idler  s  launch.  Benson  and  I, 
the  captain  and  Jerome,  stood  on  deck,  and 
watched  them  until  after  they  landed.  The 

187 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

launch  remained  at  the  wharf,  and  Mrs.  Ran 
dolph  and  her  sister  disappeared. 

Though  the  fading  sunlight  still  shone  in 
flashes  of  fire  in  some  of  the  upper  windows  of 
the  houses  of  the  town,  the  wharves  and  streets 
were  being  shadowed  and  the  street  lamps 
began  to  shine. 

"I'm  beginning  to  enjoy  this,"  said  Benson, 
walking  the  deck  with  me. 

"You  must  have  had  some  old  berserker  for 
an  ancestor,"  was  my  comment. 

"No;  it's  the  excitement  —  something  the 
way  a  fellow  feels  when  a  football  game  is  on, 
or  coming  on.  It  makes  me  understand  how 
our  boys  get  desperate  over  in  the  Philippines, 
with  fanatical  Moros  popping  at  them  from  the 
bush,  and  proceed  to  shoot  a  datto  or  two,  to 
even  things.  I  wanted  to  throw  a  chair  at  that 
officer,  and  had  hard  work  not  to  do  it." 

Captain  Quinby  was  beginning  to  enjoy  it, 
too.  He  strolled  up  to  where  we  stood  talking. 

"  I  heard  what  you  said,  about  a  man's  yacht 
being  his  castle.  That  ought  to  be  good  law.  It's 
good  law  with  me,  anyhow,  aboard  ship." 

We  killed  time  with  talk,  but  the  wait 
began  to  grow  tedious.  It  had  been  late  when 
we  steamed  into  the  harbor,  and  night  was  now 
at  hand.  Benson  looked  at  the  darkening  town. 

188 


UNDER  THE  JOLLY  ROGER 

"I  don't  suppose  anything  can  happen  to 
them  ?"  he  remarked. 

"Impossible,"  said  the  captain,  "it's  but  a 
little  distance  to  the  telegraph  office." 

Some  boats  pulled  off  and  rowed  round  the 
Idler,  the  occupants  looking  inquisitively  at  her 
and  at  the  group  on  her  deck.  One,  disrepu 
table  and  impertinent,  drew  alongside  and  be 
gan  to  ask  questions. 

"We've  got  Captain  Kidd  aboard,"  said  Ben 
son,  replying.  "He's  hunting  along  this  coast 
for  some  of  his  old  buried  treasure." 

"Ah,  gwan !  What  ye  givin'  us  ? "  was  fired  back. 

"When  a  fool  asks  fool  questions  I  give  him  a 
fool's  answer,"  said  Benson,  in  an  amused  voice. 

The  inquisitive  occupants  of  the  boat  became 
offended,  made  indignant  remarks,  and  rowed 
away. 

Suddenly  lights  flashed  on  the  wharf,  and  a 
large  boat  put  out.  It  was  not  our  launch. 
As  it  approached  we  saw  that  it  carried  Jepson 
and  a  number  of  men. 

"They  have  come  for  me,  and  are  going  to 
fight;  and  they  have  detained  the  women,  to 
keep  them  out  of  it,"  I  said,  as  a  guess.  "They 
intend  to  take  the  yacht  by  force.  If  they  try 
it!"  —  I  drew  my  revolver  —  "they'll  find  that 
they  have  waked  up  the  wrong  passenger." 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

I  was  furiously  angry  and  in  a  mood  for 
fighting. 

A  sloop  yacht  near  us  had  a  light  burning, 
which  cast  a  red  streak  on  the  water. 

"If  they  cross  the  line  of  light  from  that 
sloop  I  shall  certainly  fire  into  them,"  I  added 
as  the  boat  came  on. 

"Perhaps  they  only  want  to  parley,"  said 
Quinby,  in  a  tone  which  suggested  that  he 
thought  me  rash. 

"Captain  Quinby,"  I  demanded  in  a  spurt  of 
wrath,  "are  you  with  me  in  this,  or  with  the 
crowd  in  that  boat?" 

"With  you,  sir,  of  course,"  he  said;  yet  he 
was  not  pleased  with  the  manner  of  my  address. 

"Understand  then,"  I  announced,  "that  I 
shall  resist  arrest  to  the  last  gasp." 

I  looked  at  Benson. 

"Jack,"  I  cried,  "I  know  you  will  back  me 
in  this  ?  They  have  held  Mrs.  Randolph  and 
Miss  Hansborough  ashore,  and  now  they  intend 
to  capture  me." 

Benson,  who  had  risen  and  was  staring  at  the 
boat,  put  his  hand  on  the  back  of  the  steamer 
chair  he  had  been  occupying,  thus  seizing  it  for 
a  weapon. 

"We'll  stand  by  you,"  he  said. 

Jerome  picked  up  a  billet  of  wood  and  came 

190 


UNDER  THE  JOLLY  ROGER 

forward,  and  ranged  himself  by  my  side.  The 
captain  advanced  to  the  rail,  with  the  air  of  a 
man  who  has  determined  to  stick  to  his  em 
ployer,  right  or  wrong. 

"I  guess  they're  coming  for  you,"  he  ad 
mitted,  reluctantly. 

There  was  a  show  of  excitement  among  the 
members  of  the  crew  who  were  on  deck,  but  I 
did  not  ask  their  aid. 

As  the  boat  carrying  Jepson  and  his  deputies 
drew  near  the  red  glare  cast  on  the  water  by 
the  light  of  the  sloop  yacht,  I  caught  up  a 
megaphone. 

"If  you  cross  the  line  of  that  light  I  shall  fire 
on  you!"  I  shouted  through  it. 

The  oars  backed  water  instantly  and  there 
was  confusion  in  the  boat. 

"We've  come  to  demand  your  surrender!" 
Jepson  bellowed. 

"You  demanded  that  before,"  I  answered, 
"and  I  told  you  I  refused  to  surrender  to  you. 
That  is  still  my  answer;  and  if  you  come  any 
closer  I  shall  open  fire  on  your  boat." 

I  held  up  the  glittering  revolver  and  clicked 
the  cylinder  round. 

There  was  a  hurried  consultation  in  the  boat. 
The  confusion  continued  for  a  minute  or  more. 
Then  the  oars  dropped  into  the  water  and  the 

191 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

boat  advanced.  As  it  came  well  within  the 
light  from  the  sloop  yacht  I  could  see  the  tense 
faces  of  the  men  and  even  the  glitter  of  their 
eyes,  so  close  were  they. 

"Halt!"  I  commanded,  lifting  the  revolver. 

The  boat  swung  out  into  the  centre  of  the 
forbidden  line  and  came  on. 

"You  think  I'm  bluffing,"  I  cried.  "This 
will  show  you!" 

In  that  light,  and  being  so  near,  the  boat 
was  a  fair  target.  I  swung  the  revolver  down 
on  it,  and  by  good  luck  sent  a  bullet  into  the 
prow  near  the  water  line.  When  my  revolver 
cracked,  the  boat  stopped  so  suddenly  that  one 
man  was  almost  spilled  over  the  bow.  A  cry  of 
excitement  went  up  from  the  wharves.  In  the 
midst  of  the  confusion  I  fired  again,  the  bullet 
cutting  into  the  water  near  the  boat's  bow. 

Jepson  shouted  something,  but  if  it  was  an 
order  to  go  ahead  it  was  not  obeyed.  I  had 
frightened  the  crew;  and  they  turned  the  boat 
about  hastily,  and  began  to  row  toward  the 
shore  with  much  hurried  splashing  of  the  oars. 

Benson  laughed,  and  even  Captain  Quinby 
seemed  highly  amused.  I  was  still  in  deadly 
earnest,  and  I  ejected  the  empty  shells  and 
replaced  them  with  cartridges. 


192 


XVIII 

DISQUIETING   FEARS 

THE  crowd  on  the  wharves  increased  as  the 
boat  neared  the  shore.  Men  were  seen 
running  wildly  from  the  town,  and  the 
boatloads  of  curious  people  increased  in  num 
ber.  But  these  curious  folk  kept  well  away 
from  the  Idler.  My  revolver  shots  and  the  re 
treat  of  Jepson  had  kicked  up  a  tremendous 
excitement.  On  all  the  water  craft  about  us  peo 
ple  were  now  standing  with  eyes  and  glasses 
trained  on  our  deck.  Benson  laughed  in  a  man 
ner  to  suggest  that  the  strain  on  his  nerves  was 
beginning  to  tell. 

"Since  we  have  run  up  the  Jolly  Roger,"  he 
said,  "why  not  load  the  little  brass  signal  gun 
and  give  them  a  ripping  salute  with  it  if  they 
come  again  ?" 

When  darkness  fell  and  Mrs.  Randolph  and 
Miss  Hansborough  still  delayed,  their  continued 
absence  began  to  create  real  uneasiness. 

A  thin  white  mist  lay  now  on  the  water. 
Through  it  the  lights  about  us  and  the  lights  of 
the  town  shone  dimly.  We  hung  out  our  lan- 

193 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

terns.  And  still  the  women  did  not  appear. 
Quinby  became  as  puzzled  as  we  were,  and,  as 
his  words  showed,  suspicious. 

"Captain,"  I  said  at  last,  "Benson  and  I  will 
take  the  small  boat  and  go  ashore." 

"It  may  be  a  trap  for  you,  sir,"  he  warned. 
"Don't  you  think  if  an  investigation  is  made  I 
had  better  make  it?" 

But  I  was  now  too  anxious  and  too  much 
alarmed.  Whatever  risk  there  was  I  would 
take  it.  I  imagined  all  sorts  of  impossible  non 
sense  concerning  things  that  might  have  be 
fallen  Mrs.  Randolph.  I  thought  chiefly  of 
Mrs.  Randolph;  Benson's  anxiety  was  for  Miss 
Hansborough.  Which  shows  that  love  is  not 
only  a  singular,  but  a  selfish,  passion.  Within 
the  charmed  and  fairy  ring  which  bounds  it 
there  is  room  for  but  two  people;  all  the  rest  of 
the  world  must  stand  aloof. 

The  incoming  tide  was  swinging  the  yacht 
around  so  that  she  now  lay  broadside  to  the 
wharf.  When  the  boat  was  lowered,  Benson 
and  I  climbed  down  into  it  silently  and  rowed 
a  short  distance  seaward,  so  that  if  seen  it  would 
not  be  guessed  that  we  were  from  the  Idler. 
Then  we  turned,  swinging  in  a  large  half-circle, 
and  pulled  toward  the  shore.  Benson  was  capi 
tal  with  the  oar.  He  explained  his  proficiency 

194 


DISQUIETING  FEARS 

by  saying  that  he  had  practised  one  season 
in  the  Harvard  freshman  crew  on  the  classic 
Charles. 

We  soon  discovered  that  our  danger  was  not 
excessive.  There  were  other  small  boats  out, 
and  few  of  them  carried  lights.  We  came  near 
bumping  into  one  of  them.  Avoiding  the  small 
floating  dock  where  our  launch  lay,  we  gained 
a  black  wharf  not  distant  from  it.  The  rising 
tide  enabled  us  to  climb  readily  out  on  this 
wharf,  which  we  found  slippery  with  the  mist. 

"Now  for  that  telegraph  office,"  I  said. 

But  before  we  had  gone  far  we  were  stopped 
by  hearing  voices.  They  were  speaking  of  the 
Idler: 

"He's  goin'  to  bring  a  tug  round  from  Ports 
mouth.  They  say  that  devil  will  fight,  and  it 
looks  it;  but  Jepson's  got  a  lot  of  sand,  too,  and 
he  won't  give  up  easy.  He  says  he'll  take  him 
before  morning." 

Benson  pressed  my  arm  significantly.  I  drew 
him  to  one  side,  and  we  passed  on  unseen.  But 
we  had,  it  seemed,  made  a  highly  important  dis 
covery. 

As  we  were  about  to  enter  the  narrow  street 
that  leads  from  the  wharves  we  again  heard 
voices  —  the  voices  of  men,  and  of  Mrs.  Ran 
dolph  and  Miss  Hansborough.  I  stopped  stock 

195 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

still,  and  Benson  did  the  same.  When  the 
women  came  into  view  two  men  were  with 
them,  and  as  they  passed  between  us  and  a 
wharf  lamp  I  saw  that  one  of  the  men  was 
Courtney  Lane.  I  know  I  trembled  then,  for 
Benson  cautioned  me. 

"Steady,  old  man!"  he  said.  "It  looks  pecu 
liar,  but  of  course  it's  all  right." 

Yes,  of  course  it  was  —  so  far  as  Mrs.  Ran 
dolph  and  her  sister  were  concerned.  But  that 
Courtney  Lane  should  even  speak  to  Mrs.  Ran 
dolph  made  my  blood  boil.  And  though  I 
ought  not  to  have  been,  I  was  astonished  to 
find  that  he  was  in  York  Harbor.  They  passed 
on  toward  the  launch  while  we  stood  uncertain 
of  our  proper  course.  I  caught  but  two  sen 
tences  clearly. 

Mrs.  Randolph: 

"I  still  insist  that  you  are  wholly  wrong  and 
should  have  consulted  me." 

Courtney  Lane: 

"I  used  my  best  judgment.  You  will  agree 
with  me  in  that  by  and  by." 

We  followed.  At  the  moment  nothing  but  a 
violent  collision  with  Lane  could  have  satisfied 
my  burning  indignation. 

"I  feel  like  a  thief,"  said  Benson.  "Per 
haps  we'd  better  make  our  presence  known  ?" 

196 


DISQUIETING  FEARS 

My  hesitation  lost  us  the  chance  to  do  that. 
Before  I  could  make  up  my  mind,  the  women 
were  in  the  launch  and  it  was  moving  off.  Lane 
and  his  companion  turned  about,  passed  us  in 
the  darkness  without  seeing  us,  and  went  on 
toward  the  street. 

"I'd  like  to  follow  Lane,"  I  whispered. 

"I  think  we'd  better  return  at  once  to  the 
yacht,"  said  Benson. 

He  was  cooler  than  I,  as  I  had  sense  enough 
left  to  know.  And  I,  too,  was  anxious  to  reach 
the  yacht  as  soon  as  possible. 

"All  right,"  I  assented. 

We  ran  round  to  our  boat,  and  were  soon 
following  in  the  wake  of  the  launch  toward  the 
Idler. 

"  I  feel  queer  about  this,"  Benson  flung  at  me 
over  his  shoulder  as  he  dipped  his  oar. 

He  pulled  a  strong  stroke.  Even  in  the  misty 
gloom  I  could  admire  the  swing  of  his  athletic 
body;  and  his  oar  went  true,  with  a  beautiful 
feather,  which  I  was  not  always  able  to  manage. 

"The  whole  thing  is  queer,"  I  said. 

When  we  reached  the  Idler  we  were  greeted 
from  the  half-darkness  of  the  deck  by  Mrs. 
Randolph  and  her  sister. 

"Silly  boy!"  said  Mrs.  Randolph  to  me. 
"Were  you  afraid  to  trust  us  ashore?" 

197 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"Jack  didn't  try  to  run  away  to  Cambridge, 
I  hope?"  said  Miss  Hansborough. 

"I  was  anxious,"  I  admitted. 

Benson  said  not  a  word;  and  we  climbed  to 
the  deck,  where  my  first  inquiry  was  for  the 
expected  telegram  from  Asbury  Rand. 

"That  was  one  of  the  things  we  waited  for," 
Mrs.  Randolph  explained,  "when  we  found 
nothing  there  for  you.  We  wired  to  him,  and 
waited  for  an  answer,  but  got  nothing." 

No  telegram  from  Asbury  Rand!  I  was  be 
wildered.  It  seemed  incredible. 

"You  met  Courtney  Lane,"  I  said. 

She  did  not  answer;  for  Captain  Quinby,  who 
had  gone  to  see  to  the  proper  hoisting  of  the 
boats,  was  approaching  us. 

"We've  been  having  a  great  battle,"  I  said, 
trying  to  assume  a  tone  of  jest  as  Quinby  came 
within  hearing.  "The  captain  will  bear  me 
out  in  that.  Jepson  returned,  with  a  rascally 
crew  of  deputies,  and  we  came  near  blowing 
him  out  of  the  water.  Jack  has  the  signal  gun 
double-shotted  in  case  they  come  again." 

"  I  only  wanted  to,"  said  Benson,  apologetically. 

"It  was  lively  and  interesting  while  it  lasted," 
Quinby  acknowledged. 

I  moved  with  Mrs.  Randolph  toward  the 
companion-way.  The  captain  turned  back 

198 


toward  the  boats.  Jack  Benson  and  Miss 
Hansborough  walked  together  aft. 

"  Then  Jepson  really  returned  ?"  Mrs.  Randolph 
said  to  me  in  a  low  voice.  "What  did  he  do  ?" 

"He  again  demanded  my  surrender.  I  de 
fied  him,  and  fired  on  his  boat." 

"You  didn't!"  she  gasped. 

"I  certainly  did,"  I  answered,  "and  he  cleared 
out  in  a  hurry.  But  from  what  Jack  and  I 
overheard  on  the  wharf  he  has  gone  to  Ports 
mouth  to  get  a  tug  and  intends  to  board  the 
Idler  in  the  darkness  with  a  superior  force. 
But  forewarned  is  forearmed." 

"We  must  leave  here  at  once,"  she  declared. 

We  descended  into  the  cabin.  She  was  anx 
ious  and  agitated;  when  she  began  to  remove 
her  hat  her  fingers  shook. 

"We  chanced  to  meet  Mr.  Lane  and  his 
lawyer  at  the  telegraph  office  when  we  went  to 
it  the  second  time,"  she  explained.  "I  had  a 
long  talk  with  him." 

"I  should  like  to  get  my  fingers  on  his  throat, 
the  scoundrel!"  I  cried. 

She  looked  me  full  in  the  face  by  the  light  of 
the  electric  lamp. 

"He  seemed  quite  sincere,"  she  said.  "He 
claimed  to  have  proofs  that  you  are  an  impostor 
and  wanted  to  show  them  to  me." 

199 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"And  you?" 

"  I  told  him  the  thing  was  too  silly  to  talk  about." 

"Then  what?" 

"He  said  he  would  yet  convince  me  that  he 
is  right  and  that  I  am  wrong.  I  told  him  to  drop 
it.  And  I  have  revoked  his  power  of  attorney." 

"Good!"  I  cried.  "He  didn't  acknowledge, 
of  course,  that  he  has  been  swindling  you  ?" 

"Here  are  the  telegrams  I  received,  in  answer 
to  those  I  sent." 

She  took  them  from  the  pocket  of  the  gray 
travelling  cloak  she  had  worn  ashore. 

"  I  wired  a  New  York  lawyer,  and  he  advised 
me  to  consult  some  one  here,  which  I  did. 
And  it  was  the  lawyer  here  who  drew  for  me 
the  revocation  of  the  power  of  attorney.  So 
you  see  I  have  been  busy,  and  that  accounts  for 
our  long  stay  ashore." 

"And  then  Lane  came  down  to  the  wharf 
with  you  ?" 

"Yes.  He  urged  that  his  intention  was  to 
act  in  my  interest,  because  he  believed  I  was 
being  deceived  by  you.  And  then,  as  we  were 
alone,  he  and  his  attorney  accompanied  us 
down  to  the  launch." 

"Kind  of  him,  I'm  sure!"  I  sneered. 

"He  tried  to  be  gentlemanly  about  what  he 
had  done,"  she  urged. 

200 


DISQUIETING  FEARS 

"And  you  think  he  will  drop  it  now;  will  call 
off  Jepson  and  go  back  to  New  York  ?" 

She  hesitated. 

"  I  hope  so.     Yes,  I  think  he  will." 

"I  will  fight  him  to  the  finish!"  I  cried. 

I  felt  confused.  My  fingers  ached  to  take 
him  by  the  throat.  Yet  I  could  not  shake  off 
the  unnerving  conviction  that  no  matter  how 
great  a  villain  he  was  I  was  a  greater  still; 
and  I  began  to  wonder  how  the  whole  thing 
would  end.  His  influence  over  Mrs.  Randolph 
was  stronger  than  I  liked.  Nor  could  I  under 
stand  the  silence  of  my  New  York  detective. 
If  Lane  had  bribed  him  to  drop  the  work  I 
had  assigned  him  I  was  placed  at  a  decided 
disadvantage. 

The  telegrams  she  gave  me  I  had  glanced 
over  as  we  talked,  and  had  seen  that  to  me 
they  were  unimportant. 

Miss  Hansborough  appeared  in  the  cabin  door 
way,  with  Jack  Benson  looking  over  her  shoulder. 

"May  we  come  in,  O  plotters  ?"  she  asked. 

Her  cheeks  were  flushed  and  there  was  a 
shining  light  in  her  brown  eyes.  She  was  still 
wrapped  in  her  dove-colored  coat.  It  swung 
open  as  she  came  in,  revealing  its  lining  of 
shining  silk  of  light  blue.  Benson  looked  both 
crushed  and  warlike,  as  he  followed  her  in. 

201 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

He  seemed  still  ready  to  fight  Jepson,  but  the 
nut-brown  maid  had  evidently  rebuked  him  for 
something. 

"I  hear  you  have  been  trying  to  get  us  all 
into  jail,"  she  said,  speaking  to  me.  "Suppose 
that  while  you  were  playing  Alkali  Ike  you  had 
killed  some  one?" 

"They  were  the  aggressors,"  was  my  reply. 
"I  warned  them." 

"What  will  you  do  if  they  come  in  the  tug 
from  Portsmouth  ?" 

"They'll  have  a  jolly  time  getting  aboard," 
said  Benson,  with  bulldog  grimness. 

"We'll  not  be  here  when  the  tug  comes,  if 
it  does  come,"  said  Mrs.  Randolph.  "We  shall 
put  to  sea  as  soon  as  Jerome  has  taken  some 
messages  ashore.  Jack,  will  you  tell  the  cap 
tain  that  Jerome  is  to  go  ashore  at  once,  and 
to  have  a  boat  ready?" 

She  went  to  the  tiny  writing  desk,  scribbled  a 
message,  and  came  back  with  a  blank  sheet 
and  a  pencil  for  me. 

"Here  is  paper  for  your  message  to  Rand," 
she  said.  "Margaret,  summon  Jerome." 

She  had  assumed  the  guidance  of  affairs,  and 
I  was  made  to  feel  suddenly  that  all  along  she 
had  merely  permitted  me  to  imagine  that  I 
was  the  ruling  spirit. 

202 


XIX 

MRS.    RANDOLPH    IN   COMMAND 

JEROME  went  ashore  with  the  messages,  mine 
a  peppery  and  peremptory  one  to  Rand.  I 
hoped  it  would  blister  him  into  activity. 

While  we  awaited  Jerome's  return  we  held 
another  consultation  in  the  cabin,  Captain 
Quinby  sitting  with  us. 

"This  reminds  me,"  he  said,  "of  the  time  I 
was  captain  of  the  yacht  Lothair,  in  the  Med 
iterranean,  and  an  Algerian  pirate  who  was 
mayor  of  the  town,  or  something,  tried  to  hold 
us  up  for  a  hundred  pounds,  claiming  it  was 
customs  duties.  He  swore  by  the  beard  of  the 
Prophet  that  if  we  didn't  pay  it  he  would  have 
us  all  in  jail  before  morning.  We  pitched  the 
beggar  into  the  sea,  and  while  his  crew  was 
fishing  him  out  we  sailed  away." 

Mrs.  Randolph  was  poring  over  a  chart  on 
the  table. 

"We  will  keep  far  enough  out  to  make  sure 
we  miss  the  tug,  if  that  man  has  been  foolish 
enough  to  go  for  one,"  she  said.  "And  then 
we  will  steer  for  Yarmouth,  Nova  Scotia. 

203 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

Here  it  is.  The  answers  to  our  telegrams  can 
be  forwarded  to  that  point." 

She  looked  up  from  the  chart. 

"That  will  put  us  outside  the  jurisdiction  of 
the  United  States,  Captain,  which  is  what  we  want 
just  now.  We  will  sail  as  soon  as  Jerome  returns." 

That  some  new  rumors  were  afloat  concern 
ing  us  was  shown  by  the  appearance  of  a  small 
fleet  of  rowboats  in  the  wake  of  Jerome's,  as 
he  pulled  off  to  the  Idler.  In  one  of  them  was 
a  reporter,  who  wanted  to  come  aboard  and 
interview  us.  We  refused.  But  for  his  benefit 
Benson  picked  up  a  conversation  with  a  boat 
that  bobbed  its  light  like  a  drunken  fire-fly 
under  our  bows. 

"What's  the  news  from  Jepson?"  he  asked. 

"Are  you  going  to  fight  him  ?" was  the  answer. 

"Sure  thing!"  said  Benson.  "Did  you  think 
we  wouldn't  ?  If  you're  harboring  that  idea 
under  your  hat  just  take  a  look  at  our  brass 
cannon  up  here.  She's  loaded  so  full  that  she's 
got  the  asthma.  What's  Jepson  doing  ?" 

"Some  say  he's  gone  to  Portsmouth  to  get  a 
tug.  But  they're  goin'  to  send  another  boat 
out  from  shore  pretty  soon." 

"Oh,  they  are?"  said  Benson  airily.  "Just 
stand  by,  then,  and  see  us  blow  that  boat  out 
of  the  water." 

204 


MRS.  RANDOLPH  IN  COMMAND 

But  at  this  juncture  our  anchor  began  to 
come  in. 

"Say,  you  ain't  goin'  to  sail  now?"  arose 
from  the  boat  in  a  wail  of  disappointment. 

"We're  off  for  Portsmouth,  to  meet  Jepson," 
Benson  declared.  "We  intend  to  sink  that  tug, 
and  then  come  back  here  and  fight  any  boat 
that  is  sent  against  us.  We'll  sink  that  tug  as 
soon  as  we  meet  it." 

Apparently  Benson  had  irrevocably  cast  his 
lot  in  with  mine,  in  spite  of  his  anxiety  over 
matters  at  Cambridge.  My  heart  went  out  to 
him  in  a  great  wave  of  thankfulness. 

We  were  not  molested  as  we  steamed  out  of 
the  harbor.  The  boats  drew  away  and  gave 
us  ample  room.  The  channel  to  the  sea  is  like 
the  neck  of  a  bottle,  and  the  night  was  dark; 
but  we  passed  out  slowly,  and  without  accident. 
And  soon  the  lights  of  the  town  faded  into  the 
mist  that  was  thickening  over  the  water. 

"  Fair  Harvard  is  the  chief  thing  that  worries 
me,"  Benson  confessed,  walking  the  deck  with 
me.  "I'll  have  to  fabricate  to  beat  the  band, 
when  I  get  back."  He  laughed  without  merri 
ment.  "  Say,  I'll  claim  that  you  held  me  aboard 
there  in  New  York  when  the  Idler  sailed,  and 
refused  to  land  me  afterward!" 

"You  might  add  something  about  the  irre- 

205 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

sistible  power  of  a  pair  of  brown  eyes,"  I  sug 
gested. 

But  when  I  considered  what  he  was  doing  for 
me,  I  added: 

"Jack,  don't  think  I  fail  to  appreciate  your 
kindness.  You've  made  a  tremendous  sacrifice  for 
me,  and  I  know  it,  and  shall  not  soon  forget  it." 

I  had  slept  very  little  the  night  before.  This 
night  I  slept  less,  as  we  fled  northward  over  the 
tumbling  sea.  We  saw  nothing  of  that  tug 
from  Portsmouth,  and  hardly  a  light  after  we 
left  the  lights  of  York  Harbor  behind  us  in  the 
mist.  Mrs.  Randolph  had  directed  the  captain 
to  run  well  out  to  sea  before  laying  his  course, 
and  so  we  were  out  of  sight  of  the  lighthouses, 
even  if  the  mist  had  not  hidden  them. 

This  mist  made  gray-gold  halos  round  our 
lamps,  and  transformed  Captain  Quinby  into  a 
moving  ghost  as  he  walked  the  deck. 

"I'd  advise  you  to  go  below,  Mr.  Randolph," 
he  said,  when  it  was  long  past  midnight.  "It's 
a  nasty  night." 

"I  will,  Captain,"  I  answered,  "as  soon  as  I 
have  smoked  a  cigar  with  you." 

He  gave  me  his,  to  serve  as  a  light.  The 
misty  fog  blew  in  our  faces  with  a  salty  sting 
and  made  his  oilskins  shine.  I  drew  my  heavy 
coat  closer  about  my  shoulders. 

206 


MRS.  RANDOLPH  IN  COMMAND 

"Along  about  this  time  of  year  you  can  gen 
erally  cut  the  fog  on  this  coast  with  a  knife,"  he 
said.  "I  hope  we  don't  go  blundering  into  any 
of  those  Gloucester  fishermen.  When  they're 
loaded  they  race  along  here  from  the  Grand 
Banks  for  Boston  as  if  they  were  after  the 
America's  cup." 

"I  want  to  thank  you,  Captain,"  I  said,  "for 
standing  by  me  so  manfully  there  in  the  harbor." 

He  laughed,  shaking  the  water  from  his 
sou'wester. 

"Mr.  Randolph,"  he  said,  with  an  earnest 
ness  I  could  not  mistake,  "he  would  be  a  poor 
captain  who  wouldn't  stand  by  the  owner  in  a 
case  like  that." 

I  saw  that  his  faith  in  me  as  Julian  Randolph 
had  not  been  shaken. 

I  continued  to  walk  the  deck  even  after  I  had 
smoked  out  that  cigar,  my  thoughts  on  Mrs. 
Randolph.  It  vexed  me  that  I  had  brought 
this  trouble  and  annoyance  to  her.  She  was  of 
a  spirit  so  true  and  fine  that  she  ought,  I  knew, 
to  be  kept  from  things  like  this.  She  was  con 
tinually  an  uplifting  and  refining  influence;  like 
the  pure  air  of  a  mountain  top,  stimulating, 
healing,  refreshing,  buoying.  In  spite  of  all,  I 
had  been  another,  and,  I  hoped,  a  better  man, 
since  I  had  known  her. 

207 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

My  mind  went  back  to  the  time  when  she 
had  called  to  me  from  her  carriage,  and  it  fol 
lowed  her  through  all  the  events  since  that 
memorable  meeting.  Something  new  had  come 
into  my  life  then.  It  could  be  felt,  but  not 
defined.  It  had  transformed  me.  What  I  had 
since  done  I  had  done  for  her.  My  situation 
was  anomalous.  Yet  I  persuaded  myself  that 
at  bottom  it  was  not  base.  Nothing  could  be 
base  and  breathe  the  air  where  she  lived. 

Yielding  to  these  thoughts,  I  mused  and 
dreamed  dreams.  I  felt  that  I  was  battling  for 
her  even  now  as  we  fled  across  the  misty  seas. 
I  was  but  retreating,  that  I  might  be  able  to 
deliver  a  stronger  blow  in  her  behalf  when  the 
time  came  for  it.  My  desire  was  sincere  to  pro 
tect  her  and  shield  her. 

I  pictured  her  as  asleep  in  her  stateroom, 
perhaps  dreaming  of  me;  or  if  awake,  thinking 
of  me,  as  I  was  of  her.  Strange  that  it  was  so, 
she  still  believed  me  to  be  her  husband,  Julian 
Randolph!  To  change  that  belief  and  let  her 
see  me  as  I  was,  not  her  husband,  but  her 
devoted  lover,  and  at  the  same  time  not  to 
shatter  the  love  she  felt  for  me,  was  now  my 
delicate  task.  That  was  of  more  importance 
than  even  the  overthrow  of  Courtney  Lane. 
All  depended  on  it;  my  future  happiness  was 

208 


MRS.   RANDOLPH  IN  COMMAND 

bound  up  in  its  accomplishment.  I  trembled 
when  I  thought  of  the  difficulties  which  hedged 
that  victory  about.  But  no  true  lover  despairs. 
There  is  no  wall  of  difficulty  he  can  not  sur 
mount,  however  high,  or  howsoever  it  bristles 
with  foemen. 

The  pendulum  of  my  hopes  went  forward 
and  back  —  forward  and  back.  At  one  mo 
ment  I  was  sure  that  Mrs.  Randolph's  life  and 
mine,  having  touched  in  so  peculiar  a  way,  were 
destined  not  to  be  severed,  whatever  befell. 
One  moment  I  felt  thus;  and  then  with  the  diffi 
culties  so  clearly  before  me  I  doubted,  and  was 
miserable.  But  ever  her  voice  called  to  me,  as 
on  that  day  when  it  had  called  to  me  from  her 
carriage,  and  her  azure  eyes  beckoned  to  me  as 
then.  Where  their  light  led  I  must  follow. 

Thus  I  walked  the  deck,  the  salt  mist  in  my 
face,  but  unmindful  of  its  sting.  When  at  last 
I  went  below,  at  the  captain's  repeated  urging, 
the  cabin  was  deserted  by  all  save  Jerome,  who, 
worn  out  with  waiting  for  me,  had  fallen  asleep, 
with  his  head  on  the  little  table. 

Though  I  was  on  deck  again  at  an  early  hour  I 
found  Captain  Quinby  there  before  me.  The  sun 
had  risen,  and  the  mist  seemed  breaking  away. 

"It  will  burn  off  in  a  little  while,"  he  an 
nounced. 

209 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

As  if  to  prove  his  words,  the  sun  broke 
through  the  mist  shortly,  a  globe  of  burning 
copper  set  in  a  frame  of  pearly  gray. 

At  our  late  breakfast  Mrs.  Randolph  an 
nounced  a  change  in  our  plans. 

"We're  going  to  Camden,"  she  said,  "instead 
of  to  Yarmouth." 

"Maine  is  United  States  territory,  I  believe," 
I  answered,  recalling  her  words  of  the  night 
before  to  the  captain. 

"Very  true.  But  Camden  is  a  long  distance 
from  York  Harbor.  Mr.  Lane  will  return  to 
New  York  and  drop  his  foolish  attack;  I  am 
sure  of  that,  since  I  have  had  time  to  think  it 
over.  For  that  reason  Mr.  Jepson  will  not 
come  to  Camden.  We  can  be  quite  safe  and 
quiet  there  for  as  long  as  we  wish  to  stay.  I've 
thought  it  all  over,  and  I'm  sure  it  is  best  for  us 
to  go  there.  It  won't  seem  so  much  as  if  we 
had  run  away,  for  one  thing." 

She  gave  me  a  look  of  inquiry  as  she  con 
cluded.  She  wore  the  blue  linen  again,  which 
I  had  thought  so  becoming.  Her  color  was 
better  than  the  evening  before;  or  perhaps  that 
was  the  effect  of  the  blue  linen  and  daylight. 
A  man  judges  such  things  poorly.  She  was 
always  beautiful,  whatever  she  wore. 

"He  will  never  drop  it,"  I  declared,  thinking 

210 


MRS.  RANDOLPH  IN  COMMAND 

of  Lane;  "for  he  knows  that  unless  he  crushes 
me  I  shall  crush  him." 

"But  you  are  to  drop  your  attack  on  him, 
also,  and  call  off  your  New  York  detective," 
she  surprised  me  by  saying. 

"You  would  pay  him  something  to  drop  it  ?" 
I  asked,  ready  to  oppose  this  new  plan. 

"I  didn't  say  that,  Julian." 

She  frowned.  Strange  that  a  few  lines  drawn 
in  a  smooth  brow  and  the  gathering  of  threaten 
ing  threads  of  disapproval  at  the  corners  of  a 
pair  of  blue  eyes  should  have  such  power  to 
crush  a  man's  rebellious  spirit! 

"I  see  objections  to  your  plan,"  I  urged 
weakly. 

"Of  course  we  can't  tell  just  what  we  shall 
do,  until  after  we  reach  Camden  and  get  in  com 
munication  with  New  York,"  she  compromised, 
for  my  benefit  I  was  sure.  "But  this  fleeing 
like  a  wolf  in  the  night  isn't  to  my  fancy." 

"Fleeing  like  a  dogfish,  you  mean,"  said 
Miss  Hansborough. 

So  we  turned  to  Camden,  the  spot  where 
Julian  Randolph,  stumbling  down  to  his  boat 
in  the  darkness,  had  tumbled  into  the  water 
and  was  drowned.  I  didn't  like  the  thought  of 
it.  Of  all  places,  Camden  was  the  last  I  should 
have  chosen  to  visit  at  this  time.  But  Mrs. 

211 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

Randolph  had  her  hand  on  the  wheel  of  affairs 
and  was  showing  a  spirit  of  imperious  deter 
mination  I  had  not  known  she  possessed.  But 
withal  my  passionate  love  was  in  no  wise 
abated;  I  think  I  loved  her  better  because  of 
that  quality  of  strength. 

We  crowded  to  the  rail  as  we  steamed  into 
the  little  harbor  of  Camden-by-the-Sea.  The 
fog  was  gone,  the  sun  shone  bright  on  the  water, 
whitecaps  tossed  about  us.  The  little  town 
crescenting  the  harbor,  Negro  Island  and  its 
lighthouse  at  the  entrance,  with  the  mountains, 
Megunticook  and  Battie,  dominating  all,  made 
a  pretty  picture. 

I  saw  Miss  Hansborough  point  out  to  Benson 
The  Poplars.  It  shone  white  on  the  slopes  of 
Mount  Battie,  to  the  right  of  the  town,  over 
looking  the  harbor,  and  the  bay  and  its  distant 
blue  islands.  I  asked  Mrs.  Randolph  for  the 
glasses  she  had  been  using,  and  scrutinized  the 
big  house  with  its  double  line  of  tall  poplars 
shading  the  wide  avenue  that  led  up  to  it. 

In  that  house,  I  had  been  told,  Julian  Ran 
dolph  had  lived  with  the  woman  who  now  stood 
beside  me.  From  it  he  had  gone  that  dark 
night  to  his  death  in  the  sea.  Far  off  on  the 
right,  but  not  visible,  was  the  Lincolnville 

O         ' 

beach,  where  his  body  had  been  found.     I  con- 

212 


MRS.  RANDOLPH  IN  COMMAND 

fess  it  gave  me  a  queer  feeling,  and  one  not 
pleasant.  It  emphasized  my  hypocrisy  —  gave 
to  my  duplicity  a  deeper  shade.  Nor  could  I 
get  ease  of  conscience  by  reflecting  that  Mrs. 
Randolph  knew.-  For  she  had  persistently  re 
fused  to  accept  my  declaration  that  I  was  not 
her  husband. 

As  I  looked  at  that  house,  the  startling 
thought  of  what  it  would  mean  if  the  real 
Julian  Randolph  should  reappear  there  sud 
denly  came  to  terrify  me.  Strangely  enough  I 
had  not  much  considered  that  possibility.  He 
might  still  be  alive  somewhere;  he  might  have 
had  some  cause  for  leaving  mysteriously,  of 
which  I  had  never  heard  and  of  which  Mrs. 
Randolph  herself  had  not  known.  She  had 
never  really  believed  him  dead;  and  it  was 
because  of  that  lack  of  belief  that  she  had 
accepted  me  as  the  man  himself,  returned  to 
her.  And  he  might  return  suddenly,  to  con 
front  and  confound  me.  Stranger  things  than 
that  have  happened  —  are  happening  every  day. 
My  hands  trembled  as  I  put  down  the  glasses. 

While  we  steamed  slowly  in,  round  Negro 
Island,  Mrs.  Randolph  began  to  point  out  sights 
and  views  that,  if  I  were  Julian  Randolph, 
ought  to  have  been  as  familiar  to  me  as  to  her. 
She  persistently  avoided  mention  of  that  death 

213 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

tumble  into  the  sea  off  those  wharves.  It  was 
a  singular  situation. 

There  were  a  few  small  yachts  near  us,  as 
our  anchor  plunged  into  the  water  and  we 
swung  round  in  the  stream  of  the  tide.  Their 
occupants  evinced  curiosity,  and  a  few  people 
began  to  gather  on  shore  to  look  at  us,  for  the 
Idler  was  not  only  a  beautiful  yacht,  but  was 
really  large  and  palatial  compared  with  the 
others. 

I  watched  the  shore  anxiously,  half  expecting 
to  see  Lane  and  Jepson  there.  When  I  did  not 
I  breathed  more  freely,  and  went  ashore  with 
Mrs.  Randolph.  We  were  accompanied  by 
Miss  Hansborough  and  Jack  Benson,  and  by 
Jerome  and  Lizette. 

Benson  bade  us  good  by  now,  and  caught 
the  first  train  out  of  Rockland  for  Boston. 

The  Poplars  not  being  ready  for  occupancy, 
we  were  driven  to  the  Bay  View  Hotel,  where 
as  soon  as  possible  we  got  in  telegraphic  com 
munication  with  New  York  and  repeated  some 
of  the  messages  sent  from  York  Harbor.  I  now 
succeeded  in  waking  up  my  exasperating  and 
dilatory  detective. 

"  Been  absent  and  sick.     Will  push  matters. 

ASBURY  RAND." 

214 


MRS.  RANDOLPH  IN  COMMAND 

I  sent  him  a  tropical  reply,  asking  him  why 
his  office  force  had  not  gone  right  on  with 
the  work.  No  answer  came  to  this.  Mrs. 
Randolph  was  averse  to  my  sending  these  tele 
grams. 

Later  I  consulted  a  Camden  lawyer,  laid 
before  him  as  much  of  the  case  as  I  thought 
he  ought  to  know  for  his  guidance,  and  en 
gaged  him  in  the  event  of  need  to  defend  me 
in  the  local  courts.  I  found  that  he  already 
knew  all  about  me,  or  as  much  as  the  news 
papers  had  told.  They  had  guessed  at  a  great 
many  things;  hence  his  information  was  more 
satisfactory  to  himself  than  reliable. 

When  the  auto-car  was  landed  and  brought 
round  to  the  hotel  we  went  out  to  the  cottage 
on  the  slopes  of  Mount  Battie.  It  was  a  pala 
tial  summer  house,  with  others  of  its  kind 
near  by. 

The  next  day  we  were  occupying  it.  A  few 
servants  had  been  brought  on  the  Idler,  some 
had  been  procured  in  the  town,  and  still  others 
were  hurrying  on  from  New  York  and  Newport. 
The  yacht  swung  at  anchor  in  the  harbor,  and 
the  automobile  was  installed  in  its  garage. 
Jerome  kept  inquisitive  people  at  bay,  and 
Courtney  Lane  and  Jepson  had  apparently  dis 
appeared  from  the  face  of  the  earth. 

215 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

Yet  I  was  ill  at  ease.  I  could  not  talk 
much  with  Captain  Quinby,  except  in  a  gen 
eral  way,  though  I  smoked  many  cigars  with 
him  and  heard  all  of  his  best  stories.  Miss 
Hansborough  was  caught  up  in  the  golfing  set 
and  was  out  on  the  links  most  of  the  time. 
So,  although  I  ought  to  have  been  happy,  with 
an  abundance  of  leisure  to  spend  in  the  society 
of  the  loveliest  woman  I  had  ever  known,  I 
was  a  prey  to  wearing  anxiety.  I  could  not 
escape  from  that  new  fear  which  the  thought  of 
the  possible  return  of  the  real  Julian  Randolph 
had  brought  me. 

Sitting  in  the  cool  shade  of  the  wide  piazza 
facing  the  sea,  while  Mrs.  Randolph  read  to 
me  in  her  soothing  voice  and  I  smoked  and 
lounged  with  attempted  laziness,  the  afternoon 
sun  brightening  the  bay  and  shining  hot  on  the 
slopes  of  the  mountains,  a  sudden  fear  would 
shake  me  at  sight  of  a  man  turning  into  the 
avenue  of  poplars  and  coming  on  with  quick 
steps  toward  the  house.  On  one  such  occasion, 
so  strong  was  the  conviction  that  this  man  was 
Julian  Randolph,  that  I  actually  jumped  to  my 
feet,  dropping  my  cigar,  which  rolled  slowly  off 
the  piazza  into  the  grass  and  lay  there  emitting 
protesting  smoke  spirals. 

And  so  I  watched  and  waited,  thinking  of 

216 


MRS.   RANDOLPH  IN  COMMAND 

Julian  Randolph,  and  of  Lane  and  Jepson,  and 
expecting  constantly  a  bolt  out  of  the  blue.  As 
I  remember  the  time,  it  had  its  delights,  its 
deep  joys,  its  moments  of  intoxicating  rapture; 
but  I  knew  that  it  could  not  last. 


217 


XX 

A   DECLARATION   OF   WAR 

I  HAD  not  been  long  in  Camden-by-the-Sea 
before  I  discovered  that  I  was  inordinately 
fond  of  automobiling.     Many  thousands  of 
men  were  discovering  the  same  thing  for  them 
selves  at  the  same  time,  and  no  doubt  to  all  of 
them  it  was  as  delightful  a  discovery  as  it  was 
to  me.     As  soon  as  I  had  mastered  the   intri 
cacies  of  the  big  machine  I  set  the  chauffeur 
aside,  and  drove  forth  alone,  or  with  Mrs.  Ran 
dolph  or  Jerome. 

I  began  to  learn,  also,  in  those  days,  how 
pleasant  a  thing  it  is  to  be  in  the  possession 
and  enjoyment  of  wealth.  True,  I  had  for  my 
very  own  but  the  scant  two  hundred  dollars 
that  had  been  in  my  pocket  when  I  entered 
Mrs.  Randolph's  carriage  in  New  York.  I  had 
used  little  of  it.  I  desired  to  hoard  it  against 
a  day  of  need.  But  I  required  no  money. 
Mrs.  Randolph's  Purse  of  Fortunatus  showered 
me  with  everything,  without  my  asking.  It 
provided  the  house,  the  automobile,  the  yacht, 
the  servants,  Jerome  and  the  chauffeur;  its  re- 

218 


A  DECLARATION  OF  WAR 

sources  were  unstinted  and  apparently  unlim 
ited.  Money  had  been  offered  me  several  times; 
I  had  refused  it,  and  tried  to  feel  ease  of  con 
science  in  my  fancied  Spartan  virtue. 

The  freedom  from  financial  care  which  money 
brings  was  thus  impressed  on  my  mind.  I  had 
lived  a  hard  life  in  that  school  in  Philadelphia, 
for  the  pay  of  an  instructor  there  was  small. 
I  did  not  doubr  that  one  of  Mrs.  Randolph's 
dresses,  though  they  seemed  so  elegantly  simple, 
if  I  may  use  the  term,  cost  more  than  such  an 
instructor  received  for  a  whole  year  of  perplex 
ing  and  wearing  toil.  Anxiety,  lest  illness  come, 
or  loss  of  position,  and  the  money  fail,  together 
with  the  inability  to  get  even  a  few  dollars 
ahead  of  the  grinding  needs  of  the  present, — it 
is  that  which  eats  the  heart  out  of  the  toiler  and 
the  poor.  As  we  steamed  into  Camden  one  of 
the  stokers  had  come  up  for  a  breath  of  air, 
out  of  the  hot  stoke-hole  where,  while  we  fled 
over  the  seas,  he  had  been  laboring  in  a  heat' 
so  great  that  the  very  color  seemed  to  have 
been  washed  out  of  his  face.  He  looked  at  the 
mountains,  cool-topped  before  him.  I  fancied 
I  knew  the  thought  of  his  heart.  Freedom  from 
grinding  toil!  Such  freedom  money  brings.  I 
wonder  less  that  men  worship  it  than  that  they 
do  not  worship  it  more. 

219 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

The  love  of  ease  and  the  things  that  money 
can  supply  so  lavishly  I  found  growing  in  me. 
The  world  is  beautiful  in  Maine,  in  June.  It 
was  money  (which  might  be  mine  if  I  willed) 
that  enabled  me  to  enjoy  the  glory  of  the  sunset 
from  the  mountain  top,  and  the  surpassing 
beauty  of  the  sea,  with  its  circling  gulls,  its 
impurpled  islands,  and  the  flashing  sails  of  the 
schooners,  deep-laden  with  lumber  from  the 
mills  of  Bangor.  It  was  money  (and  it  might 
be  mine  if  I  willed)  which  placed  at  my  disposal 
that  auto-car  in  which  I  flashed  over  the  moun 
tain  curves  and  along  that  charming,  sea-girt 
highway  called  the  Belfast  Road. 

And  often  when  alone  with  these  things  weigh 
ing  on  me  the  temptation  to  accept  the  situation, 
to  say  irrevocably  that  I  was  Julian  Randolphand 
none  other,  assailed  me.  By  yielding  I  should 
gain  wealth;  above  all,  I  should  gain  the  most 
beautiful,  the  most  charming,  the  most  lovable 
of  women  for  my  wife.  Sometimes  the  seductive 
thought  intoxicated  and  almost  unmanned  me. 
Yet  always  something  rose  within  me  in  protest. 
I  could  not  do  it.  I  did  not  believe  I  was  better 
than  other  men;  I  believed  I  was  worse;  daily 
I  anathematized  my  villany  and  the  slothful  de 
sires  that  I  felt  were  eating  out  my  manhood 
and  stifling  my  conscience. 

220 


A  DECLARATION  OF  WAR 

Then  came  a  startling  awakening. 

I  had  been  out  in  the  automobile  on  the 
Belfast  Road,  and  was  returning.  The  auto 
was  running  slowly;  the  road,  skirting  the  bay, 
gives  alluring  views  that  change  with  each  turn. 
Not  far  ahead,  on  the  right,  the  summer  cot 
tages  brightened  the  slopes  of  the  mountain. 
My  thoughts  were  with  the  blue  islands,  with 
the  white  sails  limned  against  wave  and  sky,  but 
principally  with  Mrs.  Randolph.  I  had  asked 
her  to  accompany  me  that  afternoon,  as  I  always 
did,  but  she  had  urged  a  headache  and  declined. 

Thoughts  of  her  were  beginning  to  exclude 
all  other  thoughts,  when  I  heard  a  familiar 
voice,  as  in  challenge,  and  looking  up  I  saw 
Courtney  Lane.  He  stood  before  me  in  the 
road,  and  had  hailed  me.  At  sight  of  him  my 
blood  boiled  and  my  mind  became  homicidal. 
The  impulse  was  strong  in  me  to  dash  over 
him,  hurl  him  to  the  ground,  pulverize  him 
under  the  heavy  wheels,  and  leave  him  a  bleed 
ing  corpse  in  the  highway. 

"Get  out  of  my  way!"  I  shouted  in  a  passion. 

"Just  a  word  with  you!"  he  said,  his  hand 
raised. 

"Get  out  of  my  way!"  I  shouted  again. 
"You  villain,  I'll  run  you  down  if  you  don't 
get  out  of  my  way!" 

221 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

He  did  not  move,  and  I  swerved  the  car  to 
pass  him.  As  I  did  so  he  struck  the  auto  with 
a  quick  jump  and  before  I  could  do  anything 
to  prevent  he  was  in  beside  me. 

"I  want  a  talk  with  you,  out  here  where  we 
shall  be  unmolested,"  he  said  coolly,  dropping 
into  the  seat. 

His  assurance  was  monumental.  My  hands 
were  on  the  steering  wheel,  but  my  eyes  glared 
at  him.  He  was  young,  and  strong  and  mus 
cular  as  that  jump  showed.  His  steely  blue 
eyes  looked  into  mine.  His  business  suit  of 
brown  and  his  brown  derby  hat  were  pearly 
with  the  gray  powder  of  road  dust. 

"You  can't  frighten  me,"  he  said,  and  I 
thought  his  thin-moustached  upper  lip  lifted  in 
a  sneer,  or  a  snarl.  "I'm  resolved  to  have  a 
talk  with  you.  I've  come  all  the  way  from 
New  York  for  that  purpose.  If  you  won't  talk 
with  me  here,  you  will  talk  with  me  in  the 
town,  or  even  before  witnesses.  You  had  bet 
ter  let  me  say  here  what  I've  got  to  say." 

I  sank  back  against  the  cushions,  trembling 
with  rage  and  weakness. 

"Well,  what  is  it  ?"  I  demanded. 

"Don't  you  think  the  time  has  come  for  you 
to  drop  this  ?" 

"Drop  what?"  I  asked. 

222 


A  DECLARATION  OF  WAR 

"What  you're  doing  —  this  stupendous  game 
of  fraud,  by  which  you  are  making  Mrs. 
Randolph  believe  that  you  are  her  husband. 
I  think  you  have  hypnotized  her,  for  it  is  in 
conceivable  otherwise  that  she  should  think  so 
for  a  minute.  For  you  know  that  I  know  who 
you  are.  Why  continue  it?" 

The  big  auto-car  was  zigzagging  from  side  to 
side  of  the  road,  for  my  fingers  were  nerveless, 
and  my  eyes  were  fixed  on  his  face  rather  than 
on  the  highway. 

"You  have  no  right  to  question  me,"  I 
said,  "as  to  what  I  do  or  don't  do.  I  know  you 
for  a  swindling  villain,  who  to  save  himself  from 
exposure  has  tried  to  have  me  arrested,  and  — " 

"What's  the  use  ?"  he  said,  and  he  threw  out 
his  hand  in  a  protesting  gesture.  "You  can't 
continue  this  game,  and  you  ought  to  know  it. 
I've  got  all  the  proofs  against  you  I  want,  or 
need." 

"Then  why  don't  you  use  them?"  I  cried 
defiantly. 

"I  have  delayed  for  the  sake  of  Mrs.  Ran 
dolph.  That  is  the  only  reason.  I  went  faster 
at  York  Harbor  and  in  New  York  than  I 
should  have  done.  I  recognized  that,  when 
she  appealed  to  me,  and  dropped  out  of  the 
game.  But  I'm  back  now,  and  in  a  position  to 

223 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

show  up  your  duplicity  in  a  way  that  will  make 
the  world  stare.  It  rests  with  you  whether  I 
expose  you  and  publicly  pillory  you  or  not. 
You  pretend  to  care  for  Mrs.  Randolph." 

"Don't  sully  her  name  by  speaking  it!"  I 
shouted  at  him,  in  suffocating  rage. 

"I  think  I  have  shown  far  more  regard  for 
her  good  name  than  you  have.  It  will  be  as 
sailed  by  every  gossip,  if  you  force  me  to  give 
my  knowledge  of  you  to  the  world.  I  want  to 
shield  her  from  the  publicity  of  that." 

"Why  are  you  so  interested  in  Mrs.  Ran 
dolph?"  I  flashed  at  him. 

"I  was  employed  by  her  to  look  after  her 
business  interests,  and  merely  as  a  matter  of 
friendship  I  think  I  should  — " 

"You  are  in  love  with  her!  You  want  to 
marry  her!" 

"She  is  a  very  charming  woman,"  he  said, 
smiling  at  my  heat. 

He  caught  my  arm,  for  I  was  steering  blindly. 

"You'll  be  into  that  wall  in  a  minute!" 

I  shook  off  his  hand. 

"Don't  touch  me!"  I  shouted.  "I  didn't 
invite  you  into  this  auto,  and  I  won't  listen  to 
your  nonsense." 

"See  here!"  He  lowered  his  voice.  "Are 
you  going  to  compel  me  to  do  this  thing  ?  I  ask 

224 


A  DECLARATION  OF  WAR 

you  to  think  of  Mrs.  Randolph.  You  pretend 
that  you  care  for  her.  I  know  that  you  are  not 
her  husband.  Your  resemblance  to  — " 

"You  never  saw  Julian  Randolph!" 

"No.  And  I  do  not  see  him  now,  when  I  look 
at  you.  Now  there  is  a  woman  at  the  hotel  down 
here;  she  is  from  Philadelphia,  and  from  that 
school  where  you  were  an  instructor.  She  is  Mrs. 
Trencher.  Ah!  I  see  that  you  remember  her!" 

I  remembered  her.  Mrs.  Trencher  was  ma 
tron  of  that  school. 

"I  have  asked  her  to  come  here,  to  identify 
you.  She  will  be  able  to  see  you  in  the  streets, 
or  somewhere,  even  if  you  refuse  to  see  her,  and 
she  will  know  that  you  are  Louis  Armitage.  It 
is  my  intention  to  introduce  her  to  Mrs.  Ran 
dolph  and  have  her  acquaint  Mrs.  Randolph 
with  her  discovery." 

Against  myself  I  felt  a  rush  of  sudden  anger, 
realizing  that  my  face  had  shown  fear.  Then 
that  anger  flamed  out  against  Lane,  and  I  de 
nounced  him  with  weak  and  foolish  vehemence. 

He  leaned  back  against  the  cushions  smiling, 
and  as  if  to  show  his  utter  contempt  of  me  he 
took  out  a  box  of  cigarettes,  coolly  selected  one, 
set  it  between  his  teeth,  and  lighted  it. 

"What  do  you  say  ?"  he  asked,  as  the  smoke 
drifted  through  his  thin  nostrils. 

225 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"That  you're  a  scoundrel;  that  you're  a — " 

"  But  about  this  other  matter  ?  What  do  you 
say  about  that  ?  Why  not  confess  to  Mrs.  Ran 
dolph  that  you  have  deceived  her  ?  You  can 
let  yourself  down  as  easily  as  possible.  Then 
get  out  of  the  country,  and  permit  her  to  make 
whatever  explanations  she  sees  fit.  It's  the 
sensible  way.  And  it's  the  only  safe  way,  for 
you." 

"You  are  through  ?"  I  said,  when  he  stopped. 

My  voice  trembled. 

"Yes;  I'm  through,  for  the  present." 

He  was  insufferably  cool. 

"You  have  undertaken  this  thing — " 

"To  unmask  a  villain!"  he  interrupted,  with 
biting  emphasis. 

"You  have  undertaken  it  because  you  dis 
covered  that  I  intended  to  expose  you,  and 
prosecute  you  for  swindling  my  wife  while  pro 
fessing  to  conduct  her  financial  affairs." 

"Your  wife!  That's  good!"  He  took  the 
cigarette  from  between  his  lips  and  looked  at  it 
incuriously.  "Yes,  that's  good  —  fine.  You 
would  do  for  a  hero  of  melodrama." 

"No  jesting,"  I  said,  angrily.  "I  mean  what 
I  say." 

"And  I  beg  you  to  believe  that  I  mean  what 
I  say." 

226 


A  DECLARATION  OF  WAR 

"I  intend  to  put  you  in  Sing  Sing.  When  I 
start  at  that  the  world  will  understand  how  dis 
interested  you  are,  no  matter  what  you  may 
profess  or  try  to  prove  against  me." 

My  words  sounded  bold  enough,  yet  I  had 
never  felt  my  position  to  be  so  weak.  He  seemed 
to  realize  it,  and  laughed  contemptuously. 

"Your  threats  don't  trouble  me,"  he  said. 
"I  have  conducted  Mrs.  Randolph's  financial 
affairs  just  as  if  they  were  my  own." 

"I  don't  doubt  it!"  I  cried.  But  he  ignored 
the  sarcasm. 

"You  don't  intend  to  admit  your  iniquity?" 
he  said. 

"I  have  nothing  to  admit,"  I  hurled  back  at 
him,  "and  I  defy  you!" 

He  made  a  gesture  of  disdain,  with  the  cigar 
ette  held  in  his  fingers. 

Slowly  as  the  auto-car  had  moved,  we  were 
in  the  street  below  The  Poplars.  He  glanced 
up  at  the  house  and  tossed  the  cigarette  away. 

"That's  your  final  word,  is  it  ?"  he  asked. 

"My  final  word  is,  that  I  defy  you,  and  will 
put  you  through!"  I  declared.  "And  if  you 
call  at  The  Poplars  to  make  trouble  I'll  have 
the  servants  throw  you  out." 

"You  won't  go  down  to  the  hotel  and  see 
Mrs.  Trencher?" 

227 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"  Certainly  not.  Why  should  I  ?  I  don't  know 
her." 

"But  she  knows  you!" 

The  automobile  came  to  a  stop. 

"I'll  give  you  twenty-four  hours  to  think  it 
over,"  he  said,  reluctant  to  drop  it  thus.  His 
tone  was  conciliatory.  "I  ask  you  to  come 
down  to  the  Bay  View  and  see  Mrs.  Trencher." 

"Will  you  get  out  of  this  auto,"  I  shouted, 
"or  shall  I  throw  you  out  ?" 

He  began  to  get  out  with  tantalizing  slowness, 
when  I  started  the  car  with  a  jerk,  and  he  came 
near  falling.  He  turned  toward  me,  white- 
faced  and  panting,  as  I  steered  toward  the 
avenue  of  poplars. 

"That's  all  right,"  he  said,  an  unpleasant 
light  in  his  cold  blue  eyes.  "If  you  want  war 
you  can  have  it." 


228 


XXI 

THE  BOLT  FROM  THE  BLUE 

THAT  afternoon  I  told  Mrs.  Randolph  of 
my  encounter  with  Courtney  Lane.  She 
was  surprised,  for  she  had  not  known  he 
had  arrived  in  Camden. 

"I  shall  have  to  see  him,"  she  said. 

Miss  Hansborough  came  into  the  room  while 
we  were  talking.  She  wore  a  golfing  suit  of 
gray  and  had  just  returned  from  the  links. 

"That  odious  Mrs.  Trencher  is  in  town,"  she 
announced  with  a  frown  of  displeasure.  "I  met 
her  awhile  ago,  and  of  course  I  had  to  ask  her  to 
call." 

They  were  acquainted  with  Mrs.  Trencher! 
Mrs.  Randolph  was  undisturbed  by  the  announce 
ment  and  by  my  quick  scrutiny  of  her  face. 

"I  knew  she  was  here,"  she  said  serenely. 
"  Julian  has  been  telling  me.  He  met  Courtney 
Lane  awhile  ago.  She  and  Mr.  Lane  are  at 
the  same  hotel." 

"Why  is  it  that  unpleasant  people  always 
appear  when  they  are  not  wanted  ?"  said  Miss 
Hansborough  indignantly. 

229 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"I  suppose  it's  because,  being  never  wanted, 
it  is  impossible  for  them  to  appear  when  they 
are  wanted,"  was  Mrs.  Randolph's  irrefutable 
reply. 

"Where  did  you  know  Mrs.  Trencher?"  I 
asked  her  as  soon  as  I  found  opportunity. 

"  In  New  York,  two  winters  ago." 

"  She  is  not  in  society  —  not  in  your  circle, 
I  mean  ?" 

"No;  she  was  engaged  in  chanty  work,  and 
Margaret  and  I  were  thrown  in  with  her  on  a 
church  commission.  She  was  very  presuming, 
and  we  didn't  encourage  her." 

"It  seems  to  me  she  is  very  presuming  now." 

That  Mrs.  Trencher  was  a  very  presuming 
woman  she  proved,  when  she  came  to  me  on 
the  street,  the  next  morning.  I  had  sent  Jerome 
ahead  of  me  to  the  post  office;  and  as  he  delayed 
unduly  and  I  was  anxious  to  see  the  mail  I 
walked  on  into  the  town,  guarding  warily  against 
a  meeting  with  Courtney  Lane.  Mrs.  Trencher 
had  been  lying  in  wait  for  me  in  a  little  periodi 
cal  store  more  than  two  blocks  from  the  post 
office,  and  popped  out  on  me  with  disconcerting 
suddenness. 

"I  was  just  thinking  of  you,"  she  said;  and 
I  did  not  doubt  it. 

She  wrinkled  her  face  in  what  she  meant  for 

230 


THE  BOLT  FROM  THE  BLUE 

a  honeyed  smile.  She  was  a  little  woman, 
middle-aged,  alert,  aggressive,  and  behind  the 
glasses  which  she  wore  with  a  certain  dignity 
her  black  eyes  snapped.  I  recalled  how  she  had 
bounced  the  boys  of  that  school  about  when  she 
was  angry,  and  how  at  such  times  her  black 
eyes  opened  until  they  showed  circles  of  white. 
But  the  eyes  were  benevolent  now,  almost 
motherly. 

"I've  just  been  thinking  of  you,"  she  re 
peated,  "  and  saying  to  myself  that  if  it  wasn't 
so  early  in  the  day  I'd  call  on  you.  You  left 
Philadelphia  so  suddenly,  you  know,  that  I 
didn't  get  to  have  a  talk  with  you  before  you 
went." 

"Confound  Jerome!"  I  thought,  as  I  glanced 
along  the  street  and  failed  to  see  him. 

"I  think  I  don't  understand  you,"  I  said, 
giving  her  as  blank  a  stare  as  I  could. 

"When  you  left  the  Gilbert  Porter  Institute, 
you  know,"  she  explained  blandly. 

"I  fear,  Madam,  that  I  do  not  know  what 
you  mean,"  I  declared.  "I  have  not  been  in 
Philadelphia  recently." 

"What!" 

She  was  so  amazed  that  the  exclamation  was 
shocked  out  of  her.  Her  eyes  opened  in  the 
old  way  and  began  to  shine. 

231 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"Do  you  pretend — ''' 

"I  pretend  nothing,  Madam!"  I  said,  stiffly. 
"I  am  sure  I  don't  know  you.  This  must  be 
an  attempt  at  some  confidence  game." 

I  glanced  along  the  street  again.  Thank 
Heavens,  Jerome  was  in  sight! 

"Ah,  there  comes  my  valet!"  I  said,  with  too 
evident  relief.  "You  will  please  excuse  me, 
Madam,  and  permit  me  to  wish  you  a  very 
good  morning." 

I  left  her  gasping,  as  I  lifted  my  hat  to  her 
and  hurried  toward  Jerome,  who  had  a  sheaf 
of  letters  in  his  hands.  I  took  the  letters  and 
looked  at  the  addresses.  While  doing  it  we 
passed  Mrs.  Trencher,  who  had  not  yet  re 
gained  her  ability  to  speak.  But  I  caught  the 
foreboding  gleam  of  her  black  eyes. 

That  afternoon  she  called  at  The  Poplars  with 
Courtney  Lane.  I  was  out  in  the  auto-car. 
Jerome  told  me  about  it  as  soon  as  I  returned 
and  ran  the  car  into  the  garage.  His  white, 
English  face  showed  that  pinkish  flush  which  I 
had  noted  whenever  he  was  moved  or  excited 
—  a  flush  that  gave  him,  what  he  lacked,  almost 
the  "beef  and  brawn"  color  of  your  typical 
Englishman. 

"That  damned  scoundrel  from  New  York  — ' 
he  began;  "I  beg  your  pardon,  sir,  I  mean  Mr. 

232 


THE  BOLT  FROM  THE  BLUE 

Lane!  He  is  in  town,  sir;  and  was  up  here 
this  afternoon." 

Jerome's  manner  was  so  explosive  that  had 
the  subject  and  the  circumstances  not  been  so 
serious  or  so  personal  I  could  have  laughed. 
He  had  the  indignant  air  of  a  man  who  feels 
that  he  is  being  wrongfully  used.  I  knew  at 
once  that  I  had  made  a  mistake  in  leaving  the 
house  that  day.  Still,  what  had  I  to  fear  ? 

"He  was  received?"  I  said;  and  I  appeared 
to  take  the  matter  quite  calmly. 

"Yes,  sir.  There  was  a  woman  with  him; 
a  little  woman,  with  black,  gimlet  eyes,  and 
dressed  like  a  twisted  fashion  plate." 

It  was  the  best  possible  description  of  Mrs. 
Trencher. 

"They  remained  long?" 

"At  least  an  hour,  sir." 

I  began  to  get  out  of  the  automobile. 

"What  time  was  this,  Jerome?" 

"Soon  after  you  left,  sir."  He  hesitated,  as 
if  he  feared  he  might  be  considered  a  tale 
bearer.  "And  when  they  were  gone  Mrs. 
Randolph  went  down  town." 

Why  he  thought  it  worth  while  to  speak  of 
that  was  not  apparent.  Perhaps,  like  me,  his 
anxieties  were  making  him  unduly  suspicious. 
The  only  surprising  thing  to  me  was  that 

233 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

Mrs.  Randolph  should  have  received  Courtney 
Lane. 

When  I  left  the  garage  Jerome  was  swearing 
softly  to  himself,  apparently  more  uneasy  than 
I  was.  Mrs.  Randolph  heard  me  enter  the 
house,  and  appeared  before  me  in  the  large 
hall,  as  I  was  about  to  mount  the  stairs.  Her 
face  was  so  white  that  it  startled  me;  and  when 
she  spoke  her  voice  was  so  strained  and  unnat 
ural  that  it  sounded  like  the  voice  of  another. 
She  was  in  a  dark  brown  street  dress  and  its 
color  emphasized  the  corpse-like  pallor  of  her 
face. 

"I  should  like  to  see  you  a  minute,"  she  said. 

She  moved  toward  the  door  of  the  reception 
room.  I  followed,  my  heart  knocking  unpleas 
antly  against  my  ribs.  She  stood  by  the  door 
as  I  entered,  and  then  she  closed  it  ominously. 
What  she  intended  to  say  was  for  my  ears  alone. 

"Mr.  Lane  has  been  here  with  Mrs.  Trencher, 
and  I  have  been  down  to  their  hotel/* 

She  stood  before  me,  her  blue  eyes  big  and 
bright,  her  voice  strange  and  hard. 

"Yes?"  I  said,  helplessly,  wondering  what 
was  coming. 

"I  heard  Mrs.  Trencher's  story,  and  I  saw 
the  proofs  she  has,  particularly  a  group  photo 
graph  taken  a  few  weeks  ago,  she  assured  me. 

234 


THE  BOLT  FROM  THE  BLUE 

That  photograph  shows  you  in  a  classroom 
with  students.  On  the  wall  is  a  banner,  'The 
Gilbert  Porter  Institute.'  Do  you  recall  when 
that  photograph  was  taken  ?" 

Her  changed  manner  filled  me  with  terror. 
Her  voice  —  that  low,  soft  voice  —  had  as 
sumed  knife-like  qualities. 

"I  recall  it,"  I  admitted. 

"You  knew  Mrs.  Trencher,  in  that  school  ?" 

"Yes." 

"Then—" 

"I  am  afraid  I  do  not  understand  you,"  I 
interrupted.  "I  have  already  confessed  to  you 
in  effect  that  all  those  things  are  true;  and  I 
have  told  you  that  I  am  not  your  husband,  not 
Julian  Randolph,  not  — " 

She  swayed  with  weakness;  but  as  I  moved 
toward  her  she  waved  me  back. 

"Yet  I  believed  —  was  sure  —  all  along  that 
you  were  my  husband.  I  refused  to  think  any 
thing  else.  I  shut  my  eyes  against  the  possibility 
that  you  were  not.  For  you  are  his — his  living 
image.  Yet  I  know  now  that  I  was  deceived." 

She  stretched  out  her  hand  toward  the  door, 
as  if  to  open  it  and  bid  me  begone;  but  her 
hand  paused  and  clutched  at  her  heart. 

I  sprang  to  her  side. 

"Mrs.  Randolph,"  I  began. 

235 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"  Don't !  Don't ! "  she  moaned,  trying  to  push 
me  away.  "Don't  —  touch  me!" 

"But,  Mrs.  Randolph!" 

"I  don't  wish  you  to  speak  to  me  again." 

"  But  I  will  speak  to  you;  you  must  hear  me!" 

I  caught  her  hand  —  it  trembled  violently; 
I  carried  it  to  my  lips. 

"Mrs.  Randolph,"  I  cried,  in  a  tremor  of 
excitement,  overwhelmed  by  her  changed  atti 
tude,  "I  must  speak  to  you;  I  must  make  my 
self  clear.  It  is  not  my  fault  that  you  believed 
me  Julian  Randolph.  You  will  bear  witness  to 
that.  More  than  once  I  have  declared  to 
you  — " 

"But  I  — I  thought—" 

"I  loved  you!"  I  cried.  "I  loved  you  madly, 
insanely;  I  loved  you  from  the  hour  in  which 
I  first  met  you.  I  was  not  your  husband,  but 
I  resolved  to  become  your  husband.  I  have 
tried  to  conduct  myself  honorably,  and  — " 

She  drew  back,  trembling. 

"Is  this  the  conduct  of  an  honorable  man  ?" 

"But  I  explained  to  you,"  I  urged;  "on  the 
Idler,  you  will  remember,  and  at  other  times, 
I  explained  everything  to  you.  I  told  you  this 
—  that  I  was  not  your  husband,  but  that  I 
desired  to  become  your  husband.  I  declared 
my  love;  I  — " 

236 


THE  BOLT  FROM  THE  BLUE 

"Fool  —  fool  that  I  have  been!" 

"Hear  me,  Mrs.  Randolph,  for  the  sake  of 
the  great  love  with  which  I  love  you.  That 
love  has  made  me  — " 

"True  love  does  not  make  a  man  a  villain!" 

"  But  it  may  cause  him  to  do  things  which  — " 

"Spare  me!"  she  begged.  "This  —  this  is 
too  painful."  I  saw  tears  in  her  eyes.  "Spare 
me!" 

"Mrs.  Randolph!" 

"You  must  not  stay  here  another  day,  not 
another  hour." 

"But,  Mrs.  Randolph!"  I  chattered. 

"You  must  go!" 

"Mrs.  Randolph,  I  can't  leave  you." 

"You  must  go,"  she  said,  inexorably. 

She  was  reeling  with  weakness.  It  was  cruel, 
I  saw,  to  continue  my  appeals. 

"I  will  go,"  I  said,  "since  you  wish  it.  But 
I  shall  not  leave  you.  I  love  you  so  much  that 
it  is  impossible  for  me  to  leave  you.  I  shall  not 
trouble  you,  but  I  shall  be  near  you.  If  you 
will  see  me  some  time  I  will  contrive  an  oppor 
tunity.  You  will  see  me  some  time?" 

"Go!  Go!"  she  said.  And  now  the  tears 
streamed  down  her  cheeks.  "Oh,  my  God,  I 
can't  stand  this!" 

I  opened  the  door  blindly  and  dashed  like 

237 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

a  madman  from  the  room.  I  paused  at  the  foot 
of  the  stairs,  checking  my  wild  impulse  to  rush 
out  of  the  house.  I  was  not  even  entitled  to 
wear  the  clothing  I  had  on!  The  thought 
caused  me  to  hasten  to  the  rooms  I  had  grown 
accustomed  to  calling  mine.  There  I  began  to 
change  into  the  clothing  I  had  worn  when  I 
first  met  Mrs.  Randolph.  As  I  made  the  hur 
ried  change,  how  villanous  seemed  the  fact 
that  I  had  donned  and  worn  with  placidity  the 
clothing  of  Julian  Randolph.  I  was  not  able 
to  heap  on  myself  sufficient  obloquy. 

As  I  tossed  my  clothing  about,  dragging  it 
from  closet  and  dresser  drawers,  I  saw  the 
shining  revolver  with  which  I  had  fired  on  Jep- 
son's  boat  —  Julian  Randolph's  revolver.  It 
lay  where  I  had  placed  it  after  our  arrival  here, 
and  it  was  loaded.  How  like  rhodomontade 
and  cheapest  fustian  seemed  now  my  talk  to 
Jepson.  I  was  but  a  tinsel  hero  after  all.  And 
now  I  had  reached  the  end. 

I  stared  at  that  revolver,  where  it  beckoned 
me.  Here  was  a  quick  exit!  A  pull  of  that 
trigger,  a  flash,  and  I  should  be  out  of  it.  For 
a  moment  I  trembled  under  the  force  of  that 
horrid  temptation.  Then  I  pushed  the  revolver 
further  into  the  drawer,  tucking  it  out  of  sight. 
No,  I  could  not  do  that.  It  was  a  coward's 

238 


THE  BOLT  FROM  THE  BLUE 

weapon;  and  its  use  in  that  manner  would  sub 
ject  Mrs.  Randolph  to  most  unpleasant  noto 
riety.  She  had  already  been  the  unwilling 
recipient  of  too  much  of  that,  poor  woman! 

Then  I  fled  from  the  house,  taking  only  the 
things  I  had  brought  with  me.  I  did  not  even 
pen  a  parting  note.  What  was  the  use  ?  Yet 
I  lingered  a  little  in  the  big  hall,  hoping  again  to 
see  her.  No  one  appeared,  not  even  a  servant; 
and  I  let  myself  quietly  out  by  the  front  door. 

Jerome  was  in  the  garage,  talking  with  the 
chauffeur;  I  heard  their  voices.  If  Jerome  had 
been  alone  I  might  have  spoken  to  him  a  word 
of  farewell.  I  passed  on  down  the  avenue  of 
poplars;  and  as  I  could  not  make  up  my  mind 
to  turn  toward  the  town  I  walked  quickly  in  the 
other  direction,  and  was  soon  again  in  the  Bel 
fast  Road. 

Having  no  definite  plan  and  nothing  but 
chaos  in  my  mind  and  inconceivable  anguish  in 
my  heart,  I  strode  along,  without  any  objective 
point.  The  blue  sea  and  the  blue  islands  no 
longer  allured  me;  I  was  blind  to  the  beauty 
of  the  mountain  views;  the  roadside  flowers  had 
lost  their  power  to  charm. 

I  walked  until  I  was  well-nigh  exhausted. 
Yet  when  I  sought  to  stop  and  rest  I  could  not; 
I  felt  that  I  must  be  moving.  But  the  wild 

239 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

impulse  that  spurred  me  began  to  pass  by  and 
by.  I  had  sought  to  hurry  away,  to  what  point 
did  not  matter.  Now  I  began  to  see  that  I 
could  not  put  distance  between  myself  and  the 
woman  I  loved. 

So  I  turned  round  at  last,  and  walked  more 
slowly  back  toward  the  town.  This,  at  a  sharp 
turn  of  the  road,  brought  in  view  an  automobile 
which  for  some  time  I  had  heard.  Violent  rage 
seized  me  when  I  saw  that  of  the  two  men  in  it 
one  was  Courtney  Lane.  Had  he  been  follow 
ing  me  ?  If  so  for  what  purpose  ?  I  stopped 
stock  still  in  the  road,  so  amazed  and  enraged 
was  I. 

The  automobile,  which  had  been  merely 
dawdling,  shot  by  me  in  a  cloud  of  dust. 
When  it  had  disappeared  I  plodded  on.  Yet 
once  again  I  saw  it,  returning,  behind  me,  as  I 
entered  the  town.  This  act  on  the  part  of 
Courtney  Lane  had  all  the  indices  of  an  at 
tempt  to  spy  on  my  movements. 

When  I  came  into  the  street  below  The  Pop 
lars  a  feverish  desire  to  see  Mrs.  Randolph  again 
took  such  possession  of  me  that  I  turned  into  the 
shaded  avenue  and  went  on  up  to  the  house. 
I  stood  in  hesitation  before  the  door  a  full 
minute;  then  rang  the  bell.  The  maid  who 
answered  my  ring  had  been  weeping,  and  she 


THE  BOLT  FROM  THE  BLUE 

stared  at  me  in  a  way  that  was  not  pleasant. 
Perhaps  her  mistress  had  been  weeping,  I 
thought,  over  the  downfall  of  her  belief  in  me. 
I  presume  I  might  have  passed  on  into  the 
house  without  question;  instead  I  asked  for 
Mrs.  Randolph. 

"She  is  not  in." 

"Not  in  to  me,  you  mean  ?"  I  said,  with  the 
peculiar  sensation  of  having  been  struck  a  blow 
in  the  face. 

"No;  she  is  not  in." 

"Could  I  see  Miss  Hansborough  then?"  I 
asked. 

"She  is  not  in." 

"I  think  I  heard  her  voice  as  I  came  up  the 
walk,"  I  insisted. 

"No;  she  is  not  in!" 

I  turned  in  a  daze  from  the  door,  stumbled 
down  the  path  into  the  poplar-lined  avenue,  and 
out  into  the  street;  then  walked  on  toward  the 
town.  As  I  did  so  Courtney  Lane  and  his 
companion  whirled  past  me  in  their  automobile, 
thus  preceding  me. 


241 


XXII 

A   HERO  TO   HIS   MASTER 

MY  anxiety  to   see   Mrs.   Randolph  was 
not  abated.     Nor  did  I  intend  to  give 
up  my  fight  against  Lane.     Yet  cour 
age  and  determination  came  back  to  me  but 
slowly.     After  some  aimless  wanderings  I  went 
to  a  hotel,  avoiding  the  one  where  Lane  was 
stopping.     There  I  passed  a  wretched  night. 

In  the  morning,  as  I  walked  toward  the  post 
office,  I  saw  Lane  parting  company  with  a  man 
who  had  just  stepped  aboard  the  trolley  car. 
The  man  was  Doctor  Thompson.  A  swift  sus 
picion  rose  in  my  mind  and  the  sight  caused  me 
to  halt.  I  was  sure  that  Lane  had  brought  him 
to  Camden  with  Mrs.  Trencher,  and  had  used 
them  both  against  me  with  Mrs.  Randolph. 
Having  apparently  completed  his  work  against 
me,  the  doctor  was  now  on  his  way  to  Rock- 
land,  I  was  sure,  to  take  the  early  train  there  for 
New  York. 

I  avoided  Lane  as  I  went  on.  I  could  not 
trust  myself  to  meet  him  face  to  face,  and  I  did 
not  wish  a  scene  in  the  streets.  When  I  re- 

242 


A  HERO  TO  HIS  MASTER 

turned  to  the  hotel  I  secluded  myself,  fearing  I 
could  do  nothing  while  he  was  in  town.  Yet 
I  sent  another  telegram  to  Asbury  Rand,  whose 
inactivity  had  exhausted  my  patience.  I  had 
spent  a  feverish  and  restless  night,  and  was  now 
weak  and  really  ill. 

Along  in  the  afternoon,  when  I  was  on  the 
point  of  setting  out  for  The  Poplars,  being  deter 
mined  to  see  Mrs.  Randolph  again  even  if  I  had 
to  get  into  the  house  by  walking  in  past  the  ser 
vant,  there  was  a  rap  on  the  door. 

"Come  in!"  I  said,  feeling  too  tired  to  rise 
from  my  chair.  I  thought  it  was  the  bell-boy. 

When  the  door  opened,  the  oblong,  white 
face  of  Jerome  appeared. 

"May  I  come  in  ?"  he  said  timidly. 

I  jumped  to  my  feet. 

"Certainly,"  I  cried;  "delighted  to  see  you!" 

He  came  in  cautiously,  without  enthusiasm, 
and  closed  the  door  softly  behind  him. 

"  I  have  left  my  dress-suit  case  and  the  trunk 
down-stairs,"  he  said,  enigmatically. 

He  sat  down  in  the  chair  I  pointed  out,  passed 
his  long  white  hand  nervously  across  his  smooth 
chin,  and  carefully  drew  up  his  trousers  that  the 
knife-like  creases  might  not  be  taken  out  of 
them.  He  was  always  particular  about  the 
appearance  of  his  clothing.  I  wanted  to  in- 

243 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

quire  concerning  Mrs.  Randolph  and  affairs  at 
The  Poplars,  but  his  manner  puzzled  me  into 
delay. 

"I  have  resolved  to  stay  with  you,  sir!"  he 
declared,  with  an  air  of  mild  and  resigned 
determination. 

The  generosity  and  kindness  of  the  fellow 
fairly  overwhelmed  me. 

"But,  Jerome,"  I  expostulated,  "I  can't 
afford  to  keep  a  valet  now.  You  understand 
what  has  happened,  I  see.  And  you  must  know 
that  I  am  practically  penniless,  and  have  no 
income  whatever  at  present." 

"Yes,  sir,  I  understand,"  he  said. 

"So  you  see  how  impossible  your  idea  is.  It 
is  very  kind  of  you;  I  can't  tell  you  how  I  appre 
ciate  it.  But  you  see  how  impossible  it  is." 

"I  shall  not  ask  any  salary,  sir,"  he  said, 
thus  making  me  perceive  how  much  in  earnest 
he  was. 

My  heart  warmed  toward  him.  I  had  always 
liked  Jerome  —  he  was  such  a  model  servant; 
and  here  he  was  showing  qualities  of  faithful 
ness  of  which  I  had  not  dreamed.  Yet  I  felt 
called  to  protest,  and  to  refuse  his  offer. 

"  Jerome,"  I  said,  "  even  if  you  should  serve 
me  without  pay  I  couldn't  do  it.  I  have  very 
little  money.  It  will  be  as  much  as  I  can  do  to 

244 


A  HERO  TO  HIS  MASTER 

pay  my  board  bill  for  a  while.  So  I  shall  have 
to  be  my  own  valet,  you  see,  much  as  I  have 
valued  your  services.  Mrs.  Randolph  will  still 
give  you  employment  of  some  kind,  I  am  sure, 
and  — " 

"Mrs.  Randolph  has  left  Camden;  but  it 
isn't  that,  sir;  it  — " 

"Left  Camden?" 

I  fairly  leaped  from  my  chair. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Jerome,  quite  undisturbed; 
"she  and  Miss  Hansborough,  and  all  of  them, 
sir,  left  this  morning." 

"For  what  point  ?"  I  asked,  trembling. 

"I  am  not  sure,  sir,  but  I  think  Cambridge. 
They  may  have  gone  to  New  York;  but  from 
what  I  heard  I  think  it  is  Cambridge.  The  ser 
vants  that  are  left  are  closing  up  the  house,  and 
will  leave  this  evening." 

I  was  panic-stricken. 

"The  yacht  has  gone,  too,  sir;  she  sailed  an 
hour  ago,  with  the  auto  on  board,  and  the  — " 

"Gone!"  I  cried.  And  I  know  I  acted  for  a 
minute  as  if  all  hope  had  gone,  too. 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Jerome,  with  calm  resigna 
tion. 

"I  wish  I  had  known  this  earlier!" 

"  I  didn't  know  where  you  were,  sir.  I  could 
have  gone  with  them;  but,  to  tell  the  truth,  sir, 

245 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

I  didn't  want  to.  I  felt  that  you  had  been  — 
but  it  is  not  for  me  to  express  an  opinion,  sir!" 

"Express  it!"  I  commanded. 

"Well,  sir,  it  seemed  to  me  you  had  been 
treated  badly,  and  I  didn't  believe  the  things  I 
heard.  You  have  always  been  kind  to  me,  sir, 
before  you  went  away  that  time  when  we  — 
that  is,  I  —  thought  you  were  dead,  and  since 
your  return." 

Jerome  did  not  credit  Lane's  statements! 
He  believed  in  me  as  Julian  Randolph,  and 
now  that  I  was  under  a  cloud  he  had  decided 
to  stand  by  me,  in  spite  of  what  it  might  mean 
to  him.  Yet  the  fact  that  he  believed  me  to  be 
Julian  Randolph,  his  old  master,  stung  me.  I 
felt  humiliated  and  self-reproachful. 

"Jerome,"  I  said,  "you  overwhelm  me  with 
your  kindness.  I  can  never  repay  you.  And  I 
must  not  let  you  waste  your  time  with  me. 
You  will  be  acting  sensibly  if  you  follow  Mrs. 
Randolph  by  the  first  train  out  of  Rockland." 

He  was  unmoved  by  this. 

"I  want  to  stay  with  you,  sir,"  he  said, 
"because  I  think  you  will  need  me.  You  have 
not  been  used  to  doing  things  for  yourself,  sir. 
When  you  returned  your  hair  and  beard  were 
in  a  bad  condition,  if  you  will  pardon  my  say 
ing  it." 

246 


A  HERO  TO  HIS  MASTER 

"But  the  money!" 

"I  have  quite  enough,  sir,"  rising  to  heroic 
heights;  "I  have  quite  enough  for  myself,  and 
even  for  you,  in  case  of  need.  I  have  long 
received  a  good  salary,  and  your  generosity  was 
always  great,  and  I  am  not  a  spendthrift.  I 
think,  sir,  if  you  will  pardon  me,  that  you  have 
been  wronged,  and  — " 

"I  have  been  damnably  wronged  by  Courtney 
Lane,"  I  said,  bitterly,  "  and  I'll  settle  with  him 
for  it,  if  it  takes  me  a  lifetime!" 

"I  should  be  glad  to  help  you,  sir.  That  is 
why  I  stayed,  sir,  and  now  offer  my  services  — 
to  help  you  in  that." 

"Jerome,"  I  cried,  "you  are  the  only  gentle 
man  I  have  met  recently.  I  can't  suffer  you  to 
serve  me  as  valet,  under  the  conditions,  but 
your  friendship  and  confidence  are  everything 
to  me.  I  intend  to  compass  the  downfall  of 
Courtney  Lane;  I  know  how  it  is  to  be  done, 
and  I  shall  yet  do  it.  And  I  shall  — " 

I  ceased  my  raving.     It  was  belittling. 

If  no  man  is  a  hero  to  his  valet,  here  a  valet 
had  become  a  hero  in  the  eyes  of  his  former 
employer.  Jerome  seemed  to  consider  the 
matter  settled,  so  long  as  my  objections  did  not 
take  the  form  of  a  hostile  refusal  or  an  angry 
ejection.  He  ordered  the  dress-suit  case  and 

247 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

the  trunk  sent  up  to  the  room.  It  was  a  large 
trunk,  but  Jerome's  own  property.  I  found 
soon,  however,  that  it  held  principally  my  own 
belongings,  or  the  belongings  I  had  considered 
mine. 

I  was  to  find  at  once  that  Jerome  was  likely 
to  prove  invaluable.  I  sent  him  to  The  Poplars, 
to  gather  up  scraps  of  news,  and  especially  to 
discover  the  present  destination  of  Mrs.  Ran 
dolph;  and  I  asked  him  to  drop  in  casually  at 
the  Bay  View  and  learn  what  he  could  of  the 
plans  of  Courtney  Lane. 

When  he  returned  he  was  able  to  announce 
definitely  that  Mrs.  Randolph  and  her  sister 
had  departed  for  Cambridge;  which  argued  that 
Miss  Hansborough  and  Jack  Benson  had  come 
to  a  better  understanding  than  had  seemed  to 
exist  between  them  recently,  or  else  that  she 
desired  peace  with  him  rather  than  war.  In 
addition,  Jerome  brought  the  startling  news  that 
Courtney  Lane  had  left  the  Bay  View.  Pre 
sumably  he,  too,  had  departed  from  Camden. 
Naturally,  Lane's  destination  would  be  New 
York.  Jerome  and  I  alone  remained,  with  the 
few  servants  who  still  delayed  at  The  Poplars. 

"Find  out  if  Lane  has  positively  left  town," 
I  ordered. 

"I  think  he  has,  sir,"  was  Jerome's  opinion. 

248 


A  HERO  TO  HIS  MASTER 

A  little  later  he  was  able  to  inform  me  posi 
tively  that  Lane  had  left  Camden,  and  that  in 
departing  he  had  remarked  to  the  clerk  of  the 
Bay  View  that  he  was  returning  to  New  York. 

"There  is  a  noon  train  out  of  Rockland," 
said  Jerome  in  his  report,  "and  I've  no  doubt 
he  took  that." 

"We  will  take  the  train  out  this  evening 
then/'  I  announced. 

"Yes,  sir,"  he  said;  and  he  began  preparations. 

When  I  went  down  into  the  hotel  lobby  to 
write  a  telegram  my  eyes  fell  on  the  man  who 
had  been  with  Courtney  Lane  in  that  auto 
mobile.  He  was  reading  a  paper,  in  one  of  the 
chairs  by  the  wall,  did  not  look  at  me,  and 
seemed  unaware  of  my  presence. 

My  telegram  was  to  a  New  York  detective 
whose  name  and  address  I  dug  out  of  the  New 
York  City  directory  which  I  found  in  the  hotel 
office.  I  was  tired  of  the  delays  of  Asbury 
Rand,  and  resolved  to  secure  another  man,  in 
the  hope  that  he  would  do  something.  Before 
leaving  the  hotel  I  received  an  answer  from  him, 
assuring  me  that  he  would  begin  work  at  once, 
which  raised  my  hopes  somewhat. 

At  Rockland,  where  we  took  the  train  that 
evening,  I  again  saw  Courtney  Lane's  auto 
mobile  companion.  I  lost  sight  of  him  at  once, 

249 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

however,  and  felt  a  sense  of  relief;  but  in  the 
morning  I  discovered  that  he  had  occupied  a 
berth  in  the  same  sleeping  car. 

The  train  landed  us  at  the  North  Station,  in 
Boston,  before  daylight;  there  I  lost  sight  of 
him,  and  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief.  Yet  when 
we  went  over  to  Cambridge  I  saw  him  again, 
at  the  Harvard  Square  transfer  station,  where 
he  stood,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  looking 
at  the  newest  novels  displayed  in  a  bookstore 
window.  It  was  all  mere  chance,  I  felt  sure, 
yet  I  was  unable  to  drive  away  a  sense  of 
uneasiness. 

We  were  now  in  Cambridge,  in  the  very 
shadow  of  the  University  where  Jack  Benson, 
so  he  had  declared  in  jest,  had  been  wrecking  his 
physical  system  by  intense  night  study  and 
restoring  it  daily  by  strenuous  baseball  exercise. 
Mrs.  Randolph  and  Miss  Hansborough  were, 
we  believed,  in  Cambridge,  visiting  with  a  cer 
tain  Mrs.  Clarkson  Amory,  of  Brattle  Street. 
They  always  visited  there  when  they  came  to 
Cambridge,  Jerome  said.  We  sought  a  board 
ing  place  as  near  to  it  as  possible;  but  the  one 
we  found  was  not  on  Brattle  Street,  and  too 
far  from  there  to  suit  me  exactly. 

The  following  morning  I  again  saw  Lane's 
automobile  companion  in  Harvard  Square,  and 

250 


A  HERO  TO  HIS  MASTER 

shortly  afterward  encountered  Jack  Benson  near 
Memorial  Hall.  I  had  not  yet  tried  to  call  on 
Mrs.  Randolph,  though  I  had  walked  in  the 
darkness  with  Jerome  through  quiet  Brattle 
Street  and  viewed  as  well  as  I  could  the  Clark- 
son  Amory  residence.  My  courage  was  not 
strong  enough  to  bid  me  ring  the  doorbell  and 
seek  to  see  Mrs.  Randolph.  I  meant  fully  to 
do  that  later,  perhaps  that  very  day. 

As  soon  as  I  saw  Benson  I  hurried  toward 
him  and  called  his  name.  Jerome  was  not  with 
me  at  the  time.  Benson  stopped,  and  then 
seemed  to  hesitate  as  to  whether  he  should 
stand  his  ground  or  run. 

"Hello,  Benson!"  I  said.  "You  don't  know 
how  glad  I  am  to  see  you." 

"You  here  ?"  he  said,  his  face  reddening. 

He  took  my  hand  when  I  extended  it,  but 
his  handshake  lacked  its  former  heartiness. 

"Yes,"  I  answered.  "I'm  stopping  in  Cam 
bridge  now.  Great  old  buildings  you  have;  the 
genuine  college  air,  and  all  that,  you  know. 
One  must  fight  hard  not  to  absorb  wisdom 
here."  I  tried  to  speak  jocularly.  "  I  presume 
a  Yale  man  would  admit  that  it's  almost  the 
equal  of  Yale?" 

His  lips  compressed  and  his  gray  eyes  snapped 
with  sudden  fire. 

251 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"We're  going  to  hang  the  scalp  of  Old  Eli 
in  the  Crimson  wigwam  this  afternoon,"  he  de 
clared,  smiling,  and  with  fine  enthusiasm. 

I  had  forgotten  about  that  much-talked-of 
ball  game. 

"This  afternoon?"  I  said.  "Are  you  in  the 
game  ?" 

"Sure  thing!" 

His  delight  made  his  eyes  shine. 

"Luck  fell  my  way;  the  greatest  ever,  for  me, 
but  tough  for  the  other  fellow.  I  was  short 
stop,  you  know.  Well,  the  man  who  took  my 
place  was  suspended  for  professionalism,  about 
the  time  I  got  back  here.  He'd  played  summer 
ball,  for  pay.  It  was  hard  to  get  a  good  short 
stop  just  then,  and  they  couldn't  play  him;  so 
—  well,  that's  how  I  got  on  the  team  again. 
I  wasn't  really  out  of  it  so  very  long,  you 
know;  just  a  few  days." 

His  manner  became  almost  easy,  as  he  re 
called  these  things. 

"By  the  way,"  I  said,  "when  did  you  see 
Miss  Hansborough  and  Mrs.  Randolph  last  ? 
They  are  here  in  Cambridge." 

He  had  begun  to  open  up,  but  at  that  he 
closed  in  his  shell  like  a  clam. 

He  hesitated  before  answering,  then  mum 
bled: 

252 


A  HERO  TO  HIS  MASTER 

"I  don't  know;  that  is,  I  haven't  seen  'em 
lately." 

"You  knew  they  were  here  ?" 

"Yes;  that  is  —  I'd  heard  so.  They  have 
just  come." 

"You  will  take  Miss  Hansborough  to  see  the 
game,  of  course  ?" 

"Well,  yes;  I'll — that  is,  I'll  see  that  she  goes." 

He  looked  at  his  watch,  snapping  the  case 
open  and  shut  hurriedly. 

"I've  got  to  go,"  he  said.  "Wish  I  could 
talk  longer.  But  the  game,  you  know  — " 

He  stepped  backward,  thrusting  the  watch 
into  his  pocket  while  still  speaking,  and  then 
turned  and  fled.  Throughout  the  brief  talk  his 
face  had  been  like  fire  and  his  manner  that  of 
a  man  being  tortured.  What  did  it  mean  ?  It 
could  mean  nothing,  I  was  sure,  but  that  Ben 
son's  mind  had  been  poisoned  against  me;  he  no 
longer  believed  in  me,  but  thought  me  an  impos 
tor,  and  desired  no  further  intimacy  with  me. 

The  discovery  was  depressing.  It  showed 
apparently  that  Mrs.  Randolph's  attitude  toward 
me  had  not  changed;  and  I  felt  that  if  I  should 
now  call  on  her  she  would  refuse  to  see  me. 

A  few  minutes  later  I  encountered  Jerome, 
who  had  set  forth  to  meet  me.  The  faithful 
fellow  was  seldom  far  from  me;  in  truth  he 

253 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

followed  me  about  like  a  dog,  was  always  at 
hand  when  I  required  any  service,  and  stood 
ready  to  run  any  errand  for  me  at  any  time. 
My  mind  was  so  taken  up  with  the  unpleasant 
change  in  Jack  Benson  that  I  told  Jerome 
about  it. 

A  Cambridge  car  passed  us  bearing  on  front 
and  rear  in  big  letters  notices  of  the  Harvard- 
Yale  game,  to  be  played  that  afternoon  on 
Soldiers'  Field.  Those  notices  inspired  Jerome. 

"We  can  attend  the  game,"  he  said.  "Mr. 
Benson  will  furnish  tickets  for  Miss  Hans- 
borough  and  Mrs.  Randolph,  of  course,  and 
they  will  sit  together  in  the  Harvard  seats.  If 
you  wish,  sir,  I  might  get  tickets  that  would 
seat  us  near  them?" 

I  caught  at  the  suggestion.  ^. 

"But  it  won't  be  easy  to  get  tickets,"  I  ob 
jected.  "They  are  issued  to  students  only." 

"They  can  be  got  very  readily,"  he  said.  "I 
can  arrange  it,  sir." 

"  If  you  really  think  you  could  get  seats  near 
them?" 

"It  can  be  done,  sir.  I'll  learn  from  Mr. 
Benson  where  the  seats  are  which  he  has  taken." 

"Very  good,"  I  said,  pleased  immensely. 

Returning  alone  to  our  rooms,  I  found  there 
a  Western  Union  messenger  boy  with  a  tele- 

254 


A  HERO  TO  HIS  MASTER 

gram  for  me.  I  had  left  my  Cambridge  address 
at  the  telegraph  offices.  The  telegram  had 
come  "Collect,"  and  was  addressed  to  "Julian 
Randolph."  When  I  tore  open  the  yellow 
envelope  I  found  a  message  from  the  New  York 
detective  to  whom  I  had  wired  from  Camden: 

"Rand  in  pay  of  Lane  from  the  first.  Un 
able  to  find  proofs  you  want.  Pushing  investi 
gation." 

This  was  staggering.  Asbury  Rand  in  the 
pay  of  Courtney  Lane  from  the  first!  That 
explained  not  only  his  dilatoriness,  but  why  he 
had  done  nothing.  I  saw  through  it  all  now; 
how  Lane  had  even  frightened  me  into  that 
panicky  flight  on  the  yacht,  by  dictating  the 
letters  of  warning  that  Rand  had  sent  me,  his 
intention  being  to  scare  me  into  leaving  New 
York  and  Mrs.  Randolph.  Heavens!  No  won 
der  I  had  been  handicapped.  He  had  fairly 
played  with  me.  I  sat  down  in  a  daze. 


255 


XXIII 

CRIMSON   AGAINST   BLUE 

WHEN  Jerome  came  in  I  showed  him  the 
telegram,  and  a  copy  of  the  answer  I 
had  sent,  in  which  I  urged  the  detec 
tive  to  increased  effort. 

"The  scoundrel!"  he  said.  "But  I  don't 
think  much  of  those  detectives,  sir.  Perhaps 
the  new  one  is  no  better  than  Rand." 

"I  am  sure  he  must  be,"  I  said,  trying  to 
rally;  "his  telegram  proves  that." 

I  was  confused,  and  violently  angry  as  well 
against  both  Asbury  Rand  and  Courtney  Lane. 
It  was  as  if  they  had  deliberately  set  a  trap  for 
me.  Yet  it  seemed  pure  chance  which  had  led 
me  to  call  on  Rand.  Stop!  Was  it?  I  had 
found  his  name  in  a  directory  in  the  house  on 
Fifth  Avenue,  and  I  recalled  that  the  page  was 
turned  down  and  a  pencil  mark  set  against 
Rand's  name.  But  there  were  similar  pencil 
marks  set  against  many  names  in  the  directory, 
and  some  much  more  noticeable;  so  that  it  did 
not  strike  me  as  significant  at  the  time.  Yet 
now  I  saw  that  Rand  might  have  been  in  the 

256 


CRIMSON  AGAINST  BLUE 

employ  of  Courtney  Lane  previously,  and  that 
at  some  time  Lane  might  have  suggested  his 
name  to  Mrs.  Randolph;  what  more  likely  than 
when  she  desired  to  have  search  made  for  her 
missing  husband! 

Jerome  had  been  successful  in  getting  tickets. 
The  seats  were  in  a  good  position,  in  the  Har 
vard  section,  and  not  far  from  those  which  Ben 
son  had  secured  for  Mrs.  Randolph  and  Miss 
Hansborough.  I  did  not  wonder  that  Miss 
Hansborough  should  wish  to  witness  the  game, 
since  Benson  was  to  play  on  the  Harvard  nine; 
but  that  Mrs.  Randolph  should  desire  to  see  it 
did  cause  me  some  surprise.  I  concluded  that 
she  was  going  at  the  urgent  invitation  of  her 
sister,  who  hoped  thus  to  give  her  diversion  and 
change  of  thought. 

Filled  with  the  hope  of  seeing  Mrs.  Randolph, 
even  though  at  a  distance,  my  impatience  now 
became  feverish.  At  my  urging  we  set  out 
early,  and  arrived  early.  Yet  all  the  way  over 
from  Cambridge  to  Soldiers'  Field,  beyond  the 
Charles,  we  were  pushed  and  jostled  by  people 
who  hurried  as  if  they  feared  the  game  would 
begin  before  they  could  get  there.  And  every 
car  that  arrived  from  Boston  ejected  still  more 
and  more  people  into  the  struggling  mass  of 
humanity  at  Harvard  Square.  The  amount  of 

257 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

enthusiasm  that  can  be  evoked  by  a  day  before 
Class  Day  ball  game  played  by  representatives 
of  two  great  universities  is  astonishing.  Yet 
Jerome  assured  me  this  was  as  nothing  com 
pared  with  the  crowds  that  came  to  witness  a 
big  game  of  football. 

When  we  had  settled  into  our  seats  I  observed 
that  there  were  masses  of  crimson  on  our  side, 
and  on  the  other  side  smaller  masses  of  Yale 
blue,  with  traitorous  bits  of  contrary  color  fleck 
ing  each,  and  that  before  us  was  a  kite-shaped 
diamond,  of  green-and-dust  color,  where  the 
Yale  players  were  already  engaged  in  warming- 
up  practice. 

The  crimson  mass  surrounding  us  writhed 
and  rustled;  there  was  a  craning  of  necks,  and 
a  few  people  stood  up,  only  to  draw  upon  them 
selves  sharp  cries  of,  "Sit  down!" 

"There  they  come!"  said  Jerome. 

My  heart  jumped,  for  naturally  I  thought  he 
referred  to  Mrs.  Randolph  and  her  sister,  whose 
coming  I  had  been  anxiously  awaiting.  But  it 
was  a  procession  of  Harvard  undergraduates 
marching  into  the  field,  led  by  a  brass  band. 

When  they  had  gallantly  cheered  Yale  they 
broke  up,  and  the  individual  members  came 
scampering  into  the  reserved  sections.  Every 
where  crimson  and  blue  flags  and  banners  were 

258 


CRIMSON  AGAINST  BLUE 

waving,  and  there  was  much  picturesque  cheer 
ing. 

The  heaviest  cheering  came  from  a  Crimson 
section  before  which  an  old  man  was  slowly 
driving  a  donkey  and  cart.  The  donkey  and 
the  cart  were  roped  with  crimson;  the  old  man 
wore  a  high  beaver  hat  bearing  the  Harvard  H, 
a  waving  crimson  sash,  a  crimson  band  round 
his  arm,  and  little  crimson  flags  as  boutonnieres. 
When  the  cheering  was  loudest  he  stood  up, 
waved  his  beaver,  and  yelled  in  a  high,  cracked 
voice,  "T'ell  with  Yale!"  It  was  strange,  and 
suggestive,  that  old  John,  the  Orange  Man,  and 
his  donkey  and  little  cart,  should  receive  a 
greater  ovation  than  even  those  spectacular 
undergraduates.  At  sight  of  the  old  mascot 
one  young  fellow  who  sat  near  me  and  wore  a 
crimson  necktie  became  temporarily  a  screech 
ing  and  purple-faced  maniac. 

It  takes  little  to  amuse  people  when  they  wish 
to  be  amused.  A  small  bulldog  wearing  the 
Yale  colors  barked  at  the  marching  students, 
and  later  kept  running  round  the  Yale  captain 
as  if  to  weave  about  him  a  success  spell.  That 
bulldog  was  a  source  of  vast  enjoyment,  and 
brought  cheer  after  cheer  from  the  Yale  sec 
tions. 

But  all  of  this  was  insignificant  compared 

259 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

with  the  wild  roar  which  arose  when  the  Har 
vard  nine  came  trotting  into  the  field  with  their 
substitutes,  for  practice.  That  roar  was  inde 
scribable,  deafening,  pandemonium-like.  Yet 
I  forgot  to  listen  to  it,  and  scarcely  heard  the 
crashing  of  the  bands,  followed  by  the  barking 
college  cheers,  hardly  saw  the  thousands  of  flags 
frantically  waving,  for  Jerome  had  touched  my 
arm,  and  there,  settling  into  the  seats  reserved 
for  them,  were  Mrs.  Randolph  and  her  sister, 
Mrs.  Randolph  clothed  in  some  soft  dark 
material  and  Miss  Hansborough  in  a  dress  of 
lighter  hue,  but  each  with  a  touch  of  crimson. 

I  became  blind  temporarily  to  all  other  sights, 
as  I  watched  the  face  of  Mrs.  Randolph,  a  face 
unnaturally  pale,  as  if  from  much  suffering,  yet 
still  to  me  the  most  beautiful  face  in  the  world. 
The  blue  eyes  seemed  a  bit  tear-washed,  I 
thought.  I  was  very  near  her;  so  near  that  the 
close  proximity  made  me  tremble.  Jerome  had 
chosen  his  seats  well. 

What  happened  after  that  for  a  while  I  do 
not  know  clearly.  I  did  not  watch  the  practice; 
but  later  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  the  mummery  of 
John,  the  Orange  Man,  blessing  the  plate  for 
Harvard;  and,  as  the  game  began,  I  saw  that 
hundreds  of  little  crimson  balloons  were  released 
amid  tremendous  Harvard  cheering,  and  went 

260 


CRIMSON  AGAINST  BLUE 

sailing  and  bobbing  defiantly  into  the  Yale-blue 
sky,  an  offering  no  doubt  to  the  god  of  baseball 
battles. 

After  that  I  heard  now  and  then  the  crack  of 
bat  against  ball,  the  yells,  and  the  wild  Co- 
manche  chatter  of  the  coachers  as  they  sped  a 
runner  from  base  to  base.  I  heard,  too,  the 
songs  of  the  adherents  of  the  Blue  and  the 
Crimson  as  they  sought  to  urge  on  the  contest 
ing  nines,  and  the  college  cheering  from  the 
sections : 

"'Rah, 'rah, 'rah!    Yale!" 

And  the  challenge  flung  back  with  fierce 
enthusiasm: 

"Har— vard!  Har— vard!  Har— vard!  'Rah, 
'rah, 'rah!  Har— vard!" 

It  was  noisy,  spectacular,  like  the  stadium 
contests  of  Greece  and  Rome.  If  I  had  pos 
sessed  leisure  and  inclination  I  might  have 
closed  my  eyes  and  seen  the  Roman  nobles  and 
ladies  leaning  from  their  balconies  of  gold  and 
ivory,  cheering  on  the  savage  fighters  in  the 
dusty  arena.  Now  and  again  a  roar  broke  forth 
as  wolfishly  as  if  thumbs  had  been  turned  for  the 
death  of  an  overthrown  gladiator. 

But  I  sat  looking  at  Mrs.  Randolph,  devour 
ing  her  beauty.  Though  my  heart  was  filled 
with  a  flame  of  love,  the  sadness  of  her  face 

261 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

pained  me.  Not  once  did  she  look  toward  me, 
and  she  seemed  quite  unaware  that  I  was  near 
her.  The  nut-brown  maid  had  eyes  for  nothing 
but  those  dusty  fighters  of  the  diamond.  Jerome 
watched  the  playing  closely,  commented  occa 
sionally  on  the  conduct  of  the  game  or  a  deci 
sion  of  the  umpire,  and  now  and  then  I  heard 
him  swearing  softly  over  something  which  much 
displeased  him. 

Jerome's  growing  excitement  and  the  rising 
tone  of  his  comments  caused  me  at  length  to 
give  more  attention  to  the  diamond,  and  to  the 
men  who  at  brief  intervals  bobbed  up  before 
some  Yale  or  Harvard  section  and  with  waving 
arms  led  in  the  set  cheering  meant  to  inspire 
the  combating  nines. 

If  both  the  Yale  and  Harvard  supporters  were 
not  confident  of  victory  their  cheering  and  their 
songs  belied  them.  The  Yale  sections  declared 
in  lusty  chorus  that  Harvard's  grave  had  been 
dug;  and  the  Harvard  sections  sang  back  boast 
fully  that  the  sun  was  to  set  in  Crimson,  as  the 
sun  had  set  before,  for  this  was  Harvard's  day. 
Each  side  cheered  most  vociferously  and  sang 
loudest  when  its  nine  was  most  in  peril.  And 
with  it  all  there  was  that  excitement  that  made 
men  shiver,  though  the  sun  was  shining  hot 
from  the  clear  sky  of  June.  Overhead  at  least 

262 


CRIMSON  AGAINST  BLUE 

Yale's  color  was  dominant,  for  the  sky  was  a 
deep  blue  from  horizon  to  horizon. 

From  glances  at  the  soiled  fighters  of  the 
diamond  and  from  Jerome's  enlightening  com 
ment  and  soft-voiced  anathemas  I  gathered  that 
matters  were  going  hard  with  Harvard.  The 
eighth  inning  had  ended  amid  prodigious  excite 
ment,  with  Harvard  last  at  the  bat. 

"That  was  a  steal,"  Jerome  was  whispering 
softly.  He  rubbed  his  palms  together  and 
swung  forward  in  his  seat,  his  shoulders  hunched 
and  his  head  out-thrust.  "Oh,  that  was  a 
steal!" 

He  touched  my  arm. 

"  Did  you  see  that  —  that  slide  of  Benson's 
in  the  sixth  ?  He  brought  a  runner  in,  with  a 
homer;  ball  in  deep  centre  —  fielder  had  to  fish 
for  it  in  the  grass  like  a  boy  hunting  for  a  lost 
marble;  and  all  the  time  Benson  was  flying.  He 
made  a  great  slide  —  a  great  slide;  and  I'll 
swear  that  he  put  his  fingers  on  the  plate  before 
the  ball  touched  him.  But  the  umpire  declared 
him  out." 

He  clicked  his  heels  together  and  rocked  to 
and  fro  in  his  agony.  The  flush  on  his  face 
had  deepened  from  rosy  pink  almost  to  Harvard 
crimson. 

"How  is  the  score?"  I  asked. 

263 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

Not  that  I  cared;  I  was  thinking  of  Mrs. 
Randolph,  of  the  sadness  of  her  face,  of  its 
beauty,  too,  in  spite  of  its  sadness;  and  I  was 
resolving  that  I  would  defeat  Courtney  Lane, 
and  would  yet  win,  first  her  confidence,  and 
then  her  love.  What  was  it  to  me,  if  Yale  or 
Harvard  led  ?  But  I  asked  the  question. 

"Seven  to  five,  in  favor  of  Yale,"  said 
Jerome. 

He  almost  groaned. 

"Ah!  they're  making  a  kick  about  that! 
Well,  they  ought  to,  sir;  they  ought  to  throw 
that  umpire  off  the  grounds.  I'd  like  to  go 
down  and  punch  him.  Too  bad!"  he  added, 
with  a  sigh.  "He  has  ruled  against  them." 

He  turned  to  me. 

"Did  you  see  that  catch  Benson  made  at 
short,  in  the  seventh  ?" 

"No,"  I  said,  "I  wasn't  looking." 

A  shade  of  reproach  passed  quickly  over  his 
face. 

"  It  was  great,  sir  —  absolutely  the  finest  thing 
I  ever  saw!"  He  struck  his  hands  together  by 
way  of  emphasis.  "The  ball  went  hot  off  the 
bat,  like  a  bullet,  over  the  head  of  the  pitcher. 
Benson  jumped  into  the  air  and  nailed  it,  and 
shot  it  to  first  like  lightning  as  soon  as  his  feet 
touched  the  ground.  And  he  caught  the  runner 


CRIMSON  AGAINST  BLUE 

before  he  could  get  back  to  the  bag.  It  put 
two  men  out!" 

He  rubbed  his  palms  together  and  rocked  his 
body. 

"Benson  has  been  covering  himself  with 
glory  to-day,"  he  added.  "It  makes  me  proud 
of  him,  sir." 

In  the  ninth  Yale  failed  to  put  a  single  man 
on  first;  the  only  one  who  came  near  reaching 
it  Benson  put  out  with  a  short-arm  throw.  The 
feverishness  of  the  excitement  that  followed 
made  its  effects  felt  even  on  me,  uninterested  as 
I  had  been.  And  then,  when  a  run  was  made, 
and,  with  two  men  out  and  a  runner  on  first, 
Benson  came  to  the  bat,  I  felt  my  pulses  jump 
ing  for  the  first  time. 

Jerome's  face  had  gone  white  again.  I 
glanced  at  Mrs.  Randolph,  who  was  as  impas 
sive  as  ever,  and  at  Miss  Hansborough.  The 
eagerness  of  the  nut-brown  maid  was  palpable. 
She  sat  leaning  forward,  red  lips  apart,  eyes  shin 
ing,  and  with  cheeks  as  crimson  as  the  flag  she 
bore  or  the  crimson  roses  that  adorned  her  hat. 

Jerome  began  again  to  swear  softly,  as  strikes 
were  called.  Then  to  my  ears,  in  the  strange 
hush  that  fell  over  all  those  thousands  of  eager 
spectators,  came  the  words  of  the  umpire,  his 
voice  trembling: 

265 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"Two  strikes  —  three  balls!" 

A  quiver  ran  through  the  Harvard  benches, 
like  wind  rustling  through  dry  tree  branches. 
Some  electric  thrill  of  sympathy  made  my  tense 
nerves  quiver.  The  next  ball  that  came  whirl 
ing  in  from  the  hand  of  the  pitcher  might  settle 
it.  If  it  was  a  fair  ball  and  Benson  did  not  get 
it  Yale  would  be  the  victor. 

I  saw  the  ball  come  in,  and  I  heard  Benson's 
bat  collide  with  it.  It  was  a  sharp,  clear  crack. 

As  he  thus  drove  the  ball,  and  jumped  toward 
first,  while  the  runner  from  first  ran  toward  second, 
all  those  seated  Harvard  thousands  sprang  up 
in  a  screaming,  yelling  mass,  with  flags,  hats, 
handkerchiefs,  umbrellas,  fluttering  and  waving. 
I  leaped  to  my  feet,  waving  my  hat  and  yelling 
with  the  others.  The  nut-brown  maid  was  flut 
tering  her  crimson  flag  deliriously.  Jerome  at 
my  side  was  shouting  like  a  madman.  A  wild 
roar  rolled  over  the  field.  Fielders  were  scam 
pering,  coachers  screeching;  and  Benson,  chas 
ing  the  runner  before  him,  was  going  round  the 
diamond  as  if  he  wore  the  winged  slippers  of 
Mercury.  I  had  not  dreamed  the  fellow  could 
run  so.  The  man  ahead  of  him  came  in,  tying 
the  score. 

"Go  home!*'  Jerome  screamed,  waving  his 
hat,  as  Benson  passed  third  and  turned  for  the 

266 


CRIMSON  AGAINST  BLUE 

plate.  "They  can't  get  you  —  go  home!  Good 
boy!  Oh,  you  Lulu!  G-o  h-o-m-e!" 

He  stamped  on  the  seat,  and  then  jumped 
up  and  down  in  his  frenzy.  In  the  midst  of 
that  bedlam  Benson  crossed  the  home  plate, 
with  the  ball  following  him  closely;  and  then  — 

The  benches  cracked  under  Jerome  and  me, 
and  I  slipped  and  pitched  downward.  Jerome 
caught  at  me,  but  missed,  and  I  landed  on  my 
head  and  shoulders.  The  game  had  ended  vic 
toriously  for  Harvard.  For  me  had  come  the 
blackness  and  blankness  of  sudden  unconscious 
ness. 


267 


XXIV 

A   METAMORPHOSED    PAST 

I  DO  not  know  the  workings  of  the  mind 
of  Napoleon  after  his  defeat  at  Waterloo; 
I  am  far  from  being  a  Napoleon.  But 
when  I  felt  that  the  Fates  had  done  their  worst 
against  me  I  was  weak,  uncourageous,  crushed. 
Not  having  the  rashly  heroic  disposition  which 
in  times  of  disaster  drove  the  Ancients  to  the 
hemlock,  I  desired  only  seclusion  and  inatten 
tion  from  every  one.  Cowper's  remote  and 
"boundless  contiguity  of  shade"  would  have 
suited  my  sick  fancy  exactly. 

I  had  returned  to  consciousness  with  this 
feeling  in  a  room  in  the  house  on  Brattle 
Street,  though  at  the  time  I  was  fully  convinced 
that  I  was  in  a  hospital.  I  had  been  in  hos 
pitals  —  one  I  recalled  distinctly;  and  the  at 
mosphere  is  unmistakable.  In  addition,  as  if 
more  proof  were  needed,  a  white-capped  and 
white-aproned  nurse  stood  by  my  bed. 
"You  are  better,"  she  said. 
She  gave  me  something  from  a  spoon,  which 
I  swallowed  without  protest,  and  went  away. 

268 


A  METAMORPHOSED  PAST 

i 

If  it  was  a  soothing  draught  it  failed  of  its 
effect;  I  became  even  more  wide  awake,  and 
more  depressed,  as  the  drama  of  recent  events 
unrolled  to  my  memory. 

One  thing  I  recalled  with  especial  clearness 
was  that  telegram  from  New  York  which  I  had 
received  just  before  the  ball  game: 

"  Rand  in  pay  of  Lane  from  the  first.  Unable 
to  find  proofs  you  want.  Pushing  investiga 
tion." 

Another  thing  so  burned  into  my  memory 
that  I  could  never  forget  it  was  that  scene  in 
Camden  when  Mrs.  Randolph  turned  me  from 
her  door.  I  had  hoped  to  overthrow  Lane,  and 
to  win  her.  It  was  clear  to  me  now  that  I 
could  do  neither.  Indeed  the  selfishness  of  the 
efforts  I  had  made  appalled  me.  They  seemed 
sure  proof  of  that  deterioration  of  the  moral 
fibre  which  inevitably  punishes  the  wrongdoer. 

I  was  not  only  weak  and  unnerved,  deserted 
of  courage,  but  my  conscience  was  frightfully 
awake  and  loud-voiced.  It  seemed  to  me  that 
I  had  not  only  acted  the  part  of  a  poltroon,  but 
that  the  egotism  which  had  made  me  believe 
Mrs.  Randolph,  after  an  understanding  of  my 
baseness  and  duplicity,  could  accept  me  in  the 

269 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

place  of  the  husband  she  had  loved  and  lost 
was  monumental  and  bordered  on  the  delusions 
of  the  insane. 

I  wondered  if  Mrs.  Randolph  had  been  to 
see  me  since  I  had  been  brought  to  this  place, 
and  I  regretted  I  had  not  asked  the  attendant. 
Jerome  had  been  there,  I  was  sure,  and  would 
come  again.  But  now  I  did  not  want  to  see 
even  Jerome.  For  that  overpowering  feeling 
that  I  had  been  wrong  —  fatally,  foolishly, 
wickedly  wrong  —  from  the  first,  combined  with 
a  strange  and  sickening  sense  of  defeat,  made 
me  wish  to  see  no  one  who  had  known  in  any 
way  of  my  ill-guided  and  ill-starred  attempt. 

In  this  period  of  depression,  wild  thoughts  of 
flight  came  to  me,  which  crystallized  into  a 
desire  to  hide  myself  amid  the  scenes  of  my 
childhood;  I  suffered  from  the  intense  longing 
of  homesickness.  The  waving  trees  and  green 
fields;  the  roadsides,  which  in  this  month  of 
June  were  pink  with  masses  of  wild  roses;  the 
cool,  leafy  lanes;  the  pools  of  water  under  the 
pollard  willows,  where  in  the  heat  of  the  day 
the  cows  used  to  stand;  the  long  village  street, 
with  the  white  church  spire  rising  at  the  end 
of  it;  the  country  store  and  the  post  office,  with 
their  groups  of  gossipers  and  loungers,  —  I  saw 
them  all. 

270 


A  METAMORPHOSED  PAST 

The  desire  for  flight,  for  seclusion,  for  a  back 
ward  leap  into  a  past  that  might  to  some  extent 
take  me  away  from  the  present,  that  might 
somehow,  I  did  not  know  how,  sprinkle  me 
with  perfumes  from  Lethean  waters,  grew  until 
at  last  I  arose  from  my  bed. 

I  was  not  so  weak  as  I  had  thought,  and 
desire  gave  me  strength.  I  found  the  window, 
and  looked  out  into  the  night  shadows  and  at 
the  flashing  lamps  of  the  street.  The  surround 
ings  were  unfamiliar. 

My  clothing  was  within  reach  of  my  hand. 
I  dressed  hastily;  and  then  slipped  from  the 
room,  down  the  broad  stairs,  and  out  into  the 
night,  without  discovery.  I  daresay  I  was  mad, 
raving  mad,  as  a  result  of  that  fall. 

As  I  wandered  on  I  saw  that  I  was  in  Cam 
bridge,  and  directed  my  way  toward  Harvard 
Square.  In  my  purse,  undisturbed,  was  my 
small  store  of  money,  and  at  a  restaurant  I 
bought  a  roll  and  coffee.  Then  I  took  a  car 
for  the  South  Station,  in  Boston,  and  was  well 
launched  on  my  wild  journey. 

When,  shortly  before  morning,  I  arrived  in 
the  town  of  Walesby  and  sought  a  hotel,  I  was 
distressed  by  the  changes  I  beheld.  Time  had 
wrought  sad  havoc.  All  the  old  landmarks  were 
gone. 

271 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"You  are  not  well,"  said  the  night  clerk, 
looking  at  me  sharply  when  I  asked  for  a  room. 

"Not  very  strong,"  I  said,  "as  the  result  of 
a  recent  injury,  but  I  am  not  ill.  The  old 
Densford  House  stood  on  this  site  originally, 
did  it  not?" 

He  stared  at  me.  He  was  a  young  man,  with 
bristling  moustache  and  bright  eyes. 

"I  don't  know,"  he  said;  "I  never  heard 
that  it  did." 

I  observed  that  he  gave  me  curious  glances  as 
he  conducted  me  to  my  room. 

I  slept  scarcely  at  all;  and  was  out  before 
sunrise,  hurrying  along  the  street  which  I  was 
sure  would  bring  me  to  familiar  scenes.  But 
I  was  not  led  to  them.  The  sun  came  up  out 
of  a  wide  flat,  where  I  had  looked  for  hills. 
With  a  feeling  of  bewilderment  I  went  on. 
The  "o-ca-lee"  of  red-winged  blackbirds  drew 
me  to  a  clump  of  willows.  The  water  was 
stagnant  and  fetid;  the  clear  spring  had  appar 
ently  been  choked,  and  the  cool  and  trickling 
brook  where  as  a  boy  I  had  waded  barefoot 
was  not  there. 

I  looked  about  for  the  hills  of  my  childhood. 
Springs  may  become  choked  and  brooks  may 
dry  up,  trees  may  be  cut  down,  highways  may 
be  changed,  but  the  hills  are  eternal.  Yet  the 

272 


A  METAMORPHOSED  PAST 

hills  of  my  fancy,  sun-bright  when  the  red 
morning  touched  their  tops,  purple,  gold,  and 
silver  when  the  evening  shadows  marched 
phalanx-like  up  the  cool  valleys,  were  not  there. 
Hills  there  never  had  been  in  that  place.  The 
land  was  a  flat!  Nor  were  there  any  hills  about 
the  town;  not  even  the  little  hills  which  Fancy, 
reaching  youthward,  may  with  the  aid  of  de 
ceptive  memory  magnify  into  large  ones. 

A  sudden  terror  shook  me.  I  quaked  under 
a  new  thought,  that  Imagination,  insidiously  in 
serting  itself  in  the  place  of  Memory  and  pass 
ing  itself  off  as  such,  had  tricked  me.  I  began 
to  awake  to  the  terrible  discovery  that  I  had 
merely  fancied  this  town  of  Walesby  to  be  my 
birthplace;  and  that  the  hills,  the  roads,  the 
pleasant  brook,  and  all,  were  but  the  creations 
of  a  capsized  imagination.  And  as  this  rushed 
upon  me  I  was  frightened  and  transfixed  by 
another  thought.  It  seemed  to  come  as  a  re 
membered  portion  of  a  fevered  dream  which 
had  troubled  me  as  I  tossed  on  that  bed  in  the 
house  in  Cambridge.  It  was  that  /  was  the 
only  one  who  had  from  the  first  been  deceived; 
and  that  /  was  Julian  Randolph! 

With  the  inrush  of  this  sudden  conviction 
strange  memories  assailed  me.  The  recent  past 
grew  hazy,  and  showing  through  it  like  islands 

273 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

seen  through  a  mist  came  recollections  that 
amazed  and  bewildered  me.  Was  I,  could  I 
be,  Julian  Randolph  ? 

"Julian!" 

I  heard  the  name  called.  It  was  like  a 
voice  from  that  other,  that  submerged,  past. 
On  hearing  it  I  turned.  Mrs.  Randolph  was 
in  the  road,  hurrying  with  quick  steps  toward 
me.  With  her  were  Jack  Benson  and  Jerome. 
They  had  —  I  saw  it  now  —  discovered  my 
flight,  and  had  followed  in  hot  haste. 

My  brain  spun  round.  There  was  a  noise  in 
my  head  like  the  loud  humming  of  a  top.  That 
noise  ended  in  a  roaring  explosion.  And  again  I 
was  as  unconscious  as  when  I  fell  to  the  ground 
at  the  ball  field. 


274 


XXV 

LOVE   AND   THE    SOUL-SLEEPERS 

MRS.  RANDOLPH  was  reading  to  me.  I 
despair  of  conveying  to  any  one  by  the 
use  of  mere  type  and  paper  an  idea  of 
the  charm  of  her  voice  when  she  read  —  low, 
soft,  well  modulated,  yet  with  a  vibrant,  bell-like 
quality.  It  soothed  me  to  hear  it. 

The  book  from  which  she  read  was  Pinchot's 
"Mysteries  of  the  Mind."  It  was  a  strange 
book,  filled  with  records  so  strange  that  only 
one  conversant  with  the  revelations  of  psychol 
ogy  could  credit  them. 

As  Mrs.  Randolph  read  I  watched  her  with 
loving  fondness.  The  pallor  was  gone  from 
her  face;  health,  contentment,  happiness  were 
revealed  in  it.  And  it  was  as  beautiful  as  I 
had  dreamed.  The  clear-cut  features,  the  white 
forehead  and  brilliant  complexion,  the  rounded 
throat,  the  soft  brown  hair  with  its  gleam  of 
sunshine,  the  sweet  blue  eyes,  and  lips  made 
for  love  and  kisses  —  I  noted  them  all.  Thus 
noting  and  listening  I  almost  forgot  at  times 
the  strangeness  of  the  things  she  read. 

275 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

"That  is  a  queer  case,"  I  said;  "read  that 
again,  please." 

"Very  much  like  your  own,  Julian." 

Pinchot  was  expounding  his  theories  of  the 
"Sub-Conscious  Mind"  and  telling  of  that 
singular  mental  cataclysm  by  which  all  previ 
ous  recollections  are  buried  under  new  and 
imaginary  ones. 

"The  former  ego,"  read  Mrs.  Randolph,  "is 
apparently  extinguished,  and  another  (we  can 
not  call  it  a  new  one,  for  it  previously  existed) 
supplants  it.  The  man  is  thus,  as  to  his  mental 
states,  wholly  another  being.  While  he  is  to 
the  eye  of  the  beholder  the  same  man,  he  does 
not  himself  know  it.  Nor  does  he  know  of  the 
change  in  himself.  His  past  is  to  him  as  if  it 
had  never  existed.  He  does  not  recognize,  or 
know,  those  who  were  his  former  friends.  They 
are  strangers  to  him.  He  recognizes  only  those 
whom  he  has  known  and  associated  with  in  his 
new  condition  of  existence;  and  he  knows  (that 
is,  recalls)  others,  who  are  but  inhabitants  of 
the  chimerical  past  he  has  created  for  himself, 
a  past  which  would  otherwise  be  a  blank. 
Sometimes  (often  indeed)  the  past  is  a  blank. 
With  this  manufactured  past  (if  I  may  so  call 
it)  serving,  and  deceiving  him,  as  real  memories, 
he  constructs  for  himself  a  new  life,  begins  per- 

276 


LOVE  AND  THE  SOUL-SLEEPERS 

haps  a  new  profession,  assumes  a  new  name, 
which  he  fancies  has  been  always  his,  and  does 
not  for  an  instant  dream  even  that  this  is  so. 
If  a  married  man  he  perhaps  marries  again,  not 
knowing  that  he  is  already  married.  Should 
he  even  meet  his  wife  he,  in  all  proba 
bility,  would  not  recognize  her,  nor  could  he  be 
made  to  believe  that  she  was  his  wife,  or  that 
he  had  ever  met  her  before.  But  if  recognition 
came,  then  his  submerged  ego  would  instantly  re- 
assume  control,  and  he  would  be  as  a  man  aroused 
from  a  trance;  then  the  new  life  he  had  been  living 
would  itself  become  a  blank,  the  new  acquaint 
ances  would  be  no  more  remembered  as  belong 
ing  to  that  period;  and  in  fact  all  that  he  had 
thought  and  done  would  be  as  a  sentence  or  a 
page  of  writing  erased  from  a  slate.  This  is 
usually  the  case;  yet  there  are  well-authenticated 
instances  where  a  man  thus  restored  is  able  to 
recall  not  only  this  new  and  usually  forgotten 
past,  but  recalls  also,  the  same  as  a  mind  which 
has  not  known  this  submergence,  the  events  of 
his  previous  life,  such  as  every  man  remembers." 

She  closed  the  book,  with  her  finger  between 
the  pages. 

"Doctor  Thompson  saw  that  you  were  in 
just  that  state."  A  hint  of  tears  came  to  the 
blue  eyes.  "And,  Julian,  you  don't  know  what 

277 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

it  cost  me,  when  I  tried  to  carry  out  his  orders 
there  in  Camden,  after  he  had  reached  the  con 
clusion  that  a  violent  mental  shock  might  arouse 
you  to  the  old  life.  I  am  a  poor  actress  I'm 
afraid,  for  I  came  near  breaking  down  when  I 
made  that  pretence  of  believing  you  to  be  the 
impostor  you  thought  yourself,  and  ordered  you 
from  the  house." 

Impulsively  I  put  out  my  hand  and  took  her 
free  one  in  it,  giving  it  a  warm  pressure. 

"But  I  was  willing  to  try  anything,"  she 
added.  "  I  was  so  afraid  though  that  you  would 
do  something  violent,  would  kill  yourself  per 
haps,  that  I  stipulated  a  man  must  be  set  to 
watch  you  every  minute." 

"Yes,  I  recall  him  well  enough,"  I  said; 
"that  was  the  fellow  who  rode  with  Lane  in 
the  auto,  and  shadowed  me  after  I  reached 
Boston  and  Cambridge.  But  I  thought  Lane 
had  hired  him." 

She  looked  at  me  with  a  radiant  smile. 

"I  fear  that  your  love  for  me  was  not  as 
strong  as  you  claimed,  you  pretender;  for  you 
never  once  tried  to  commit  suicide.  And  all 
my  fine  acting  went  for  nothing,  too;  for  if 
Jerome  hadn't  gone  insane  at  the  ball  game  and 
broken  the  seat  you  would  still  be  claiming  to 
me  that  you  are  not  Julian  Randolph." 

278 


LOVE  AND  THE  SOUL-SLEEPERS 

"I  should  still  be  madly  in  love  with  you, 
whatever  I  was  or  did,"  I  declared,  lifting  her 
hand  to  my  lips  with  an  impulsive  motion.  "I 
think  Pinchot  does  not  hit  my  case  in  one  way; 
for  I'm  sure  it  was  memory  —  a  queer  sort,  per 
haps  —  which  caused  me  to  fall  wildly  in  love 
with  you  when  I  saw  you  there  in  the  carriage 
in  Central  Park." 

She  pouted  her  lips  prettily. 

"So  you  don't  think  you  could  have  fallen  in 
love  with  me  if  there  hadn't  been  a  memory 
of  that  previous  love?" 

"Of  course;  I'd  have  fallen  in  love  with  you 
anyway,  any  time,  anywhere.  You  are  the  one 
woman  ordained  for  me  from  the  foundation  of 
the  world." 

"Don't  be  so  sure,  Julian,"  she  said.  "If 
the  half  of  what  Pinchot  says  is  true  we  can 
never  be  sure  of  anything." 

Yet  she  was  pleased. 

"No  matter  what  Pinchot  says,  I  am  sure 
I'm  the  happiest  man  alive!" 

"And  I  the  happiest  woman." 

I  drew  the  bright  head  down  to  where  I  lay 
half  reclining,  and  kissed  her. 

"Kitty,"  I  said,  "I  love  you!" 

She  threw  her  arms  round  me. 

"  And  I  love  you  —  love  you  —  love  you ! " 

279 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

Courtney  Lane  was  not  such  a  bad  lot  after 
all,  I  discovered.  As  the  instructor  to  whom 
he  had  been  introduced  in  Philadelphia,  he  was 
not  ready  to  believe  that  I  could  be  Julian  Ran 
dolph.  I  confess  that  inasmuch  as  I  did  not 
myself  believe  it  he  had  grounds  for  his  disbe 
lief.  I  think  he  really  did  unload  some  copper 
stocks  on  my  wife  at  an  unseemly  high  figure; 
but  he  did  not  attempt  any  direct  swindling,  or 
other  financial  jugglery,  so  far  as  I  could  learn. 
But  I  am  convinced,  and  always  shall  be,  that 
he  was  in  love  with  my  wife.  That  was  not  her 
fault,  God  bless  her!  No  man  could  be  long 
acquainted  with  her  and  not  love  her;  and  he 
would  be  less  than  a  man  if,  thinking  her  a 
widow,  he  did  not  wish  to  marry  her. 

I  have  forgiven  him  for  that  Philadelphia 
business.  I  did  spend  a  couple  of  months  in 
the  Gilbert  Porter  Institute  as  an  instructor 
while  I  was  roaming  about  under  the  impres 
sion  that  my  alter  ego  was  my  first  and  only 
ego,  and  Julian  Randolph  had  retired  tempo 
rarily  to  that  strange  and  mystical  land  of 
the  Sub-Conscious.  Randolph  was  completely 
avalanched  at  the  time,  poor  fellow;  that  fall 
from  the  wharf  at  Camden  did  it,  Doctor 
Thompson  believes,  and  I  am  sure.  But  I  have 
such  a  grip  on  him  now  that  he  is  not  likely 

280 


LOVE  AND  THE  SOUL-SLEEPERS 

ever  to  leave  me  again.  Doctor  Thompson  is 
as  wise  as  I  once  thought  him  foolish. 

Mrs.  Trencher  I  have  also  forgiven.  I  know 
I  can  never  learn  to  like  the  widening  flash  of 
her  black  eyes;  but  she  is  not  to  blame  for  that 
perhaps,  nor  for  her  peppery  temper  and  over- 
masterful  manner.  Years  of  teaching  and  other 
years  of  mission  work  taking  one  into  contact 
with  inferior  minds  will  have  their  effect. 

I  find  it  strangely  hard  to  forgive  Asbury 
Rand.  He  might  have  informed  me  that  he 
had  been  employed  previously  by  Lane.  The 
confidences  I  bestowed  on  him  when  I  did  not 
know  that  were  as  if  they  had  been  purloined 
from  me.  And  that  he  should  have  deceived 
me  so,  and  aided  Lane  while  professing  to 
serve  me,  was  black  treachery.  Still,  I  try  to 
be  generous  even  to  Asbury  Rand.  In  my  new 
happiness  I  feel  that  I  can  afford  to  be  generous 
and  forgiving  to  the  whole  world. 

While  my  wife  was  reading  to  me  from  Pin- 
chot's  admirable  book  Jerome  passed  the  door. 

"Jerome  was  himself  a  wonderfully  clever 
actor  at  that  time,"  I  said,  as  the  sound  of  his 
footsteps  died  away.  "I  really  thought  he  had 
left  you,  and  had  not  the  remotest  idea  that  you 
had  instructed  him  to  remain  close  by  me  and 
help  me  in  every  way  I  demanded,  and  that  you 

281 


THE  CASTLE  OF  DOUBT 

supplied  the  money  which  he  was  so  anxious  to 
spend  on  me.  I  really  did  not  credit  him  with 
such  cleverness." 

She  looked  at  me  with  eyes  strangely  shining. 

"Can  you  think  for  an  instant  that  I  would 
send  you  away  from  our  house  in  Camden  with 
out  any  one  to  look  out  for  you,  or  care  for 
you?" 

"He  acted  his  part  with  marvellous  skill,"  I 
said.  "Really,  he  would  not  do  badly  on  the 
stage." 

"I  think  we  all  had  some  excellent  lessons  in 
acting  about  that  time,"  she  said,  smiling  again; 
"  not  only  Jerome  and  myself,  but  Margaret  and 
Jack  Benson,  and  even  the  chauffeur  and  the 
servants." 

Miss  Hansborough  came  into  the  room  with 
a  girlish  flutter,  carrying  a  stack  of  envelopes 
which  she  had  been  addressing.  She  was  the 
same  cheery,  athletic,  nut-brown  maid.  I  did 
not  wonder  that  Benson  adored  her. 

He  had  received  his  "sheepskin"  from  Har 
vard  soon  after  his  wonderful  work  on  the  dia 
mond.  I  tell  him  in  jest  sometimes  that  he 
would  not  have  been  given  a  degree  but  for 
that! 

The  addressed  envelopes  were  to  convey  to 
her  friends  announcements  of  her  approaching 

282 


LOVE  AND  THE  SOUL-SLEEPERS 

wedding.  She  was  radiantly  happy  as  she 
asked  advice  and  showed  some  of  the  addresses 
to  her  sister. 

But  not  even  Miss  Hansborough  nor  Jack 
Benson  (no,  not  even  when  they  stood  together 
in  Grace  Church  and  were  married!)  was  hap 
pier  than  I,  nor  happier  than  the  lovely  woman 
who  is  my  wife.  For  ours  was  a  reunion  which 
bound  more  closely  and  firmly  than  can  any  new 
tie. 


THE    END. 


383 


Mr.  Whitson's  First  Western  Novel 


BARBARA 
A  WOMAN  OF  THE  WEST 


By  JOHN   H.  WHITSON 
Illustrated  by  C.  C.  Emerson.      12mo.     Cloth,  $1.50 


"  We  are  carried  from  one  scene  to  another  with  an  ease 
and  expeditiousness  that  plainly  betokens  the  author's 
familiarity  with  the  length  and  breadth  of  the  Western 
country,  and  the  people  he  so  vividly  portrays,"  says  the 
San  Francisco  News-Letter. 

Barbara,  the  heroine  of  Mr.  Whitson's  first  Western 
novel,  is  the  loyal  wife  of  a  self-centred  man  of  literary 
tastes,  living  on  a  ranch  in  Kansas.  "  Barbara  is  a  fresh, 
breezy  sort  of  a  girl ;  and  the  account  of  her  life  and  ulti 
mate  happiness,  as  described  by  Mr.  Whitson,  makes  one 
of  the  best  stories  of  the  season,"  says  the  St.  Paul  Globe. 

Hon.  John  D.  Long,  ex-Secretary  of  the  Navy,  in  a  letter 
to  the  author,  says :  "  You  have  the  story-teller's  art.  I 
like  especially  those  portions  of  the  book  which  treat  of 
Western  scenes  and  life  —  the  homestead,  the  plain,  the 
prairie,  the  pioneer's  experience,  the  mining  camp,  Cripple 
Creek,  and  Pike's  Peak.  You  bring  out  the  growth  of  the 
country,  the  speculative  ups  and  downs,  the  mountain 
curves  of  the  narrow  railroads ;  and  the  winter  scene  with 
the  dangerous  trip  over  the  mountain  from  Feather  Bow  is 
very  graphic." 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &    CO.,  PUBLISHERS 
254  WASHINGTON  STREET,  BOSTON 


A  Stirring  Tale  of  the  Plains 


THE     RAINBOW 
CHASERS 


By  JOHN  H.   WHITSON 
Author  of  "  Barbara,  A  Woman  of  the  West " 

FULL    of  the  atmosphere  of  the  West,  with  Dick 
Brewster,  alias  Jackson  Blake,  cowboy,  land  specu 
lator,  and  lover,  for  its  hero,  Mr.  Whitson's  new  novel, 
without  being  in  the  least  a  copy,  has  many  of  the  attrac 
tions  of  Mr.  Wister's  hero,  "  The  Virginian." 

"The  Rainbow  Chasers"  is  a  virile  American  novel 
with  its  principal  scenes  laid  in  Western  Kansas  during 
the  land  boom  of  '85.  The  male  characters  are  vigorous 
men,  with  red  blood  in  their  veins ;  and  the  heroine,  Elinor 
Spencer,  is  a  high-spirited  but  lovable  Western  girl. 

The  Brooklyn  Eagle  says  :  — 

"  It  is  a  picturesque  narrative,  striking  in  its  portrayal 
of  conditions  that  have  vanished.  It  is  one  of  those  works 
of  fiction  which,  like  '  The  Virginian, '  deserve  to  rank  as 
books  of  social  and  economic  history,  because  of  the  pic 
turing  of  conditions,  vital  while  they  existed,  that  have 
passed  away." 

With  6  illustrations  by  Arthur  E.  Becher.    393  pages. 
12mo.     Decorated  cloth,  $1.50. 


LITTLE,   BROWN,  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS,  BOSTON 
At  all  Booksellers 


A  Colorado  romance,  full  of  action 


JUSTIN  WINGATE, 
RANCHMAN 


By  JOHN  H.  WHITSON 

Author  of  "  The  Rainbow  Chasers,"  etc. 

Illustrated  by  Arthur  E.  Becher.     318  pages.     12mo.     $1.50 


A  timely,  unusual,  and  striking  story,  fall  of  action. — 
Chicago  Inter-Ocean. 

The  love  story  is  one  of  the  sweetest  told  in  any  novel 
of  recent  days. — St.  Louis  Star. 

It  may  be  called  a  "  reconstruction  novel "  of  ranch,  ex 
istence,  for  it  deals  with  a  new  phase  of  Western  life  and 
presents  the  cowboy  in  a  new  character.  The  writer  has 
not  only  the  story-teller's  art  of  holding  the  attention,  but 
he  has  a  .thorough  knowledge  of  his  subject,  and  presents 
an  accurate  and  adequate  picture  of  the  "Western  life  of 
the  day — its  purpose  and  significance  and  possibilities. — 
New  York  Sun. 

There  are  many  extremely  thrilling  situations  in  the 
story  and  they  are  skilfully  handled. —  Boston  Transcript. 

Takes  one  among  very  real  people,  placed  in  genuinely 
human  situations. —  St.  Louis  Globe- Democrat. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  CO.,  PUBLISHERS,  BOSTON 
At  all  Booksellers' 


"Shows  Mr.  Oppenkeim  at  his  Best" 


THE  MALEFACTOR 


By  E.  PHILLIPS   OPPENHEIM 

Author  of  "  A  Maker  of  History,  "  etc.      Illustrated  by 
F.  H.  Townsend.     12mo.     Cloth,  $1.50 


A  new  Monte  Cristo.  Every  page  fascinates.  —  Brook 
lyn  Citizen. 

Spirited,  vigorous,  mysterious,  and,  best  of  all,  well-told. 

—  Boston  Transcript. 

Possesses  literary  merit  far  above  what  is  usually 
associated  with  this  kind  of  fiction.  —  Philadelphia  Press. 

One  of  those  fascinating  stories  which  grips  tightly  the 
deepest  interest  of  the  reader  and  holds  on  until  the 
strange  tale  is  complete.  —  Syracuse  Herald. 

Nothing  that  he  has  yet  produced  compares  with  "  The 
Malefactor "  in  point  of  sheer,  absorbing  interest.  —  St. 
Paul  Pioneer  Press. 

Constructed  with  the  skill  in  development  of  plot  and 
exciting  interest  of  which  the  author  is  an  acknowledged 
master.  —  The  Outlook,  New  York. 

A  story  of  the  strange  revenge  of  Sir  "Wingrave  Seton, 
who  suffered  imprisonment  for  a  crime  he  did  mot  com 
mit  rather  than  defend  himself  at  a  woman's  expense. 

—  Toledo  Blade. 


LITTLE,  BROWN,  &  CO.,.  PUBLISHERS 
254  WASHINGTON  STREET,  BOSTON 


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